Cupid Has Exploding Arrows
by quirkygirlwithatazer
Summary: What if a Taser-wielding research assistant had met an assassin with a Robin Hood fantasy in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico? And what if tequila led to some shenanigans with much bigger consequences? Fair warning: There will be some smut. You're welcome.
1. Jack Booted Thugs

**AN**: Hey guys! So my brain, being way cracked out on caffeine, asked me, "What would happen if Darcy and Clint had met in New Mexico?" And then it just ran away. This Darcy is still the same, personality/backstory/quirk-wise, as the Darcy in my other story. This is just one of Abed's six possible timelines.

But don't worry, this isn't the darkest timeline.

**Disclaimer**: All the cool things (i.e. PopTarts) are not mine.

* * *

Darcy Lewis was royally pissed. Here she was, in the middle of Bum Fuck Nowhere, New Mexico, locked down by jack-booted thugs of the governmental variety, out of PopTarts, and she couldn't even listen to her Mean Reds playlist.

Was life unfair, or what?

Darcy stomped around the lab, looking for someone to Taser, until Jane finally yelled at her, "Would you stop that?"

Darcy sighed dramatically and flopped down in the nearest chair. "They TOOK my iPod! MY iPod! I just made three new playlists!"

"Would you stop it with your iPod whining and go do something productive? Like restock the PopTart supply?"

Darcy crossed her arms and pouted, then rolled her eyes. "Fine, princess."

As she walked to the door, the current jack-booted thug blocked her path. "Sorry, ma'am. You can't leave without an escort."

Darcy pointed at Jane, who was starting to lob wadded up pieces of paper at the whiteboard. "Do you want to explain to the angry scientist why there are no PopTarts?"

A quick flash of emotion flashed across the JBT's face, but it was too quick for Darcy to read. He spoke into his earpiece. "Agent Barton, we need you in the lab."

Darcy impatiently tapped her foot, waiting on whatever newest JBT would come to make her life hell. All she wanted to do was go down the street to the 7-11 to buy some damned PopTarts. She didn't need anyone to hold her hand…

That was until she saw the agent who was supposed to escort her. Christ on a cracker, he had biceps that Darcy just wanted to lick.

But maybe that was the sexual frustration talking.

* * *

Clint Barton didn't like babysitting details. He'd much rather keep watch from a distance, staying in what the junior agents referred to as his nest, watching for patterns and anomalies. But they were low on man power here in New Mexico, so if Agent Juarez said he was needed for an escort , Barton had no choice but to go to the lab.

Since he was called to the lab, Clint expected to be escorting Dr. Foster. Instead, he found he was escorting her assistant – Dolly? Dana? – on a trip to 7-11 that was apparently "essential to science."

The girl, who had been impatiently tapping her foot and sighing while he and Agent Juarez discussed the situation, finally tapped her wrist in a motion universally understood to mean "hurry up." Clint raised an eyebrow at her, surprised at her brashness. He gave a curt nod to Agent Juarez and walked over to join her.

"Agent Barton, is it? You need to hurry your ass up, because a Jane with no PopTarts is a cranky Jane. I'm Darcy, by the way. And yes, it's true. I did Tase Thor."

"Bullshit." He said, succinctly.

"It's totally true! Just ask Jane. I have mad skills with a Taser, yo." Barton just stared at her. "Bro, I don't care who you are, I will totally do it to you if you doubt my mad skillzzzz." Darcy said, drawing out the z's on the last word. "Whatever. Let's go get some damn PopTarts."

As Darcy walked out the door to the lab, Clint couldn't help but notice that she had a really nice ass.

* * *

As they walked to the 7-11, Darcy couldn't help but sneak glances at Agent Barton. She was practically reduced to a drooling mess at the sight of his perfectly cut arms.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Darcy finally broke it. "So, Agent Barton, what's your thing? Can you kill a man seven different ways with a toothpick? Are you devoid of emotion, like Agent Coulson? Or are you secretly a mutant?"

He gave a short grunt. "Bow and arrow. That's my thing."

Darcy stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him. (It was 3 am, it's not like anyone was driving down the street anyway.) "You have got to be shitting me."

He just grunted. "You realize that this gives me full license to sing 'Oo-De-Lally' to you every time I see you." At his blank stare, she added, "Ya know, from Disney's Robin Hood?" He snorted.

Another minute passed in silence. They were halfway to the 7-11 now, and Darcy had a strange desire to hear what a full sentence would sound like out of his mouth. But Darcy was an evil, mischievous girl, and instead decided to make him talk first.

The night was surprising warm for the desert in the spring. So Darcy slowly, painstakingly, unzipped her hoodie. Underneath she had on a v-neck tee and if there was one constant in her life, it was that men could not resist her boobs. From the corner of her eye she saw him glance at her breasts and gulp. The silence stretched longer.

They were three quarters of the way to 7-11.

Darcy picked up her pace until she was slightly in front of him. She slightly exaggerated the swing of her hips, and was grateful she was having a good jeans day. After a little bit, he picked up his pace, and when Darcy glanced back she noticed that the corner of his mouth had quirked up in a grin.

They were in the parking lot of the 7-11.

As Darcy went to open the door, Agent Barton leaned over her shoulder and stopped her, his hand over hers on the handle. "Miss Lewis," he whispered roughly in her ear, "are you trying to seduce me?"

Darcy turned her head and tried to hold back a grin. "It depends."

"On what?"

Darcy stepped out of his arms and opened the door. She turned back to him. "On whom I have to fuck to get my iPod out."

* * *

Clint burst out laughing as Darcy led the way into the 7-11. He had to give the girl credit, she had a smart mouth – and it looked perfect for kissing, as well. Clint groaned internally. He was going to have a hell of a time trying to remember this girl was an assignment.

He watched as she loaded her basket with Red Bull, seven different flavors of PopTart, Lucky Charms, popcorn, a bottle of Jose Cuervo, and a handful of limes.

As they got in line, he raised an eyebrow at her purchases. "Tequila is essential to science?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Tequila is essential to life." At the checkout counter, she added the latest edition of Cosmo magazine and a pack of gum to her cache.

A SHIELD credit card footed the bill, and the two made their way back down the street to the lab. As they walked, Clint found himself somehow telling the story of the one time, back in his circus days, an elephant had fallen in love with him and followed him around like a baby duckling…


	2. Cosmo Drinking Games

Darcy hadn't laughed so hard since the time Jane had blown up the toaster and worn her Raspberry PopTart instead of eating it. Clint Barton, once she got him to open up, was surprisingly witty – in a very dry, masculine sort of way.

They stopped at the lab to drop off the Red Bull and PopTarts. Darcy all but force fed Jane, who waved her off, mumbling something about loud breathers and jack booted thugs. Darcy took that as permission to escape the realm of science.

So Darcy went up to the roof, carrying the Cosmo, the tequila, a salt shaker, the now sliced limes, and two shot glasses. As she sprawled across one chaise lounge, she toed off her beat up Chucks. "We're going to play a game, Robin Hood."

He eyed the tequila. "Is it a drinking game?"

"It's 3 am. We're in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to do. Of course it's a drinking game."

Agent Barton gave her a dangerously sexy smile. "Ok, I'll bite. What're the rules?"

Darcy grinned and waved the magazine. "If you've done it, you drink."

"Define 'it.'" He said, smirking.

Darcy flipped the magazine open at random. Of course it would land on the sex moves article. "If you've done the sex move discussed, you take a shot," she explained, trying not to stare at his ass as he dragged his chaise lounge closer to her.

He lied down on his seat, kicking his boots off. "Let's go, then."

* * *

The first sex tip involved running an ice cube over your partner's nipples. They both filled their shot glasses and toasted each other, tossing the shots back with a theatrical flourish.

The second involved wearing stiletto boots and nothing else. Clint watched as Darcy sighed and took another shot. "So not fair!" she cried after biting the lime. His mind pictured Darcy wearing just that...he shook his head, trying to clear the image out.

The third involved using a blindfold. Clint grinned, remembering an assignment in Paris and a beautiful painter…he took his shot.

Fifteen more tips were called out. Clint took 9 shots; Darcy took 12. Clint made a mental note to one day try out #11.

Darcy had made a show out of reading the sex tips in a fake-seductive voice. "Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he asked.

"I watched _Elvira: Mistress of the Dark_ way too many times in college. It's one of my comfort movies." She suddenly sat up. "We should watch that!"

Clint stared at her, having trouble making his left eye stay fully open. "Right now?"

"Uh, duh. It's not like Jane's coming back to the trailer anytime soon."

"Why not?" he said, shrugging. Clint leaned forward and stuck his feet back into his boots. As he stood and wobbled, he realized that the tequila had hit him a little harder than he thought.

Darcy stood and wobbled as well. Clint attempted to catch her, but they both ended up falling back onto one of the chaise lounges. Clint landed on top of Darcy, his leg trapped between her thighs. The two stared at each other, both momentarily lost for words…until Darcy started giggling. "Robin Hood, is that an arrow in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Clint leaned into her shoulder, laughing. But then he caught a whiff of the delicate floral perfume that lingered on her neck, and he suddenly wanted to know if Darcy tasted as good as she smelled.

He ran his nose down the pale column of her throat, inhaling deeply. Darcy's giggles became husky as she threw her head back, offering her skin for his perusal. Clint nibbled the delicate skin, starting at the hollow of her throat and working his way up to her chin. Darcy's hands grabbed his shoulders then slid silkily down his back as she hummed in contentment.

Clint took her face in his hands and stared into her deep blue eyes. Whatever he had told himself earlier about her being an assignment left his brain as Darcy grabbed his ass and smirked.

Clint kissed Darcy, trying to wipe that attractive little smirk off her face. She tasted like salt and tequila and mischief. One of her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid up her legs and cupped her backside.

He pulled back suddenly. Darcy was his target to protect, not to seduce! "We shouldn't –" he started.

Darcy grabbed his hair and pulled his face to hers. "Shut up," she ordered before kissing him ruthlessly. Her tongue slid past his lips, stroking against the roof of his mouth. He slid his fingers over her hips and under the hem of her shirt as he returned her kiss, stroke for bold stroke. Her hips rose and ground into his as he pinched her nipples through the fabric of her bra. _God, she has great breasts, _was the last coherent thought Clint had before instinct took over.

Shoes were kicked back off and clothes flew across the roof as the two raced to see who could undress the other the fastest. Darcy fumbled with Clint's belt as he tried to pull off her hoodie. Darcy's glasses were set under the chair next to Clint's gun holster.

And suddenly the two were naked and staring at each other, unsure of whether to continue what had been started. Clint ran his fingers over Darcy's curves, marveling at her alabaster skin, glowing in the moonlight. Darcy traced the veins in his arms as she bit her bottom lip. The two looked each other in the eye, and Darcy raised one eyebrow. "So…are you gonna rock my world, or do I need to go back to the trailer and dig out my trusty vibrator?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can take care of things for you." Clint said, leaning in to take her lips with his again. He could feel Darcy smiling into the kiss.

* * *

It was a war, each seeing who could push the other to come first. Finally, somehow, they reached a release at the same time.

As Clint pulled a blanket over them, he heard Darcy murmur, "Does this mean I get my iPod back?"

* * *

Darcy woke up the next morning to tequila-hangover-mouth. That wasn't terribly surprising; since SHIELD had taken over their research, Darcy (and sometimes Jane) had spent many nights drinking away their frustrations with the shadowy agency. What was surprising was the fact that 1) she was on the roof and 2) she was naked.

Darcy groaned and covered her eyes with her forearm. What the hell had happened? She remembered the ridiculously attractive agent and then trying to feed Jane and being dismissed, then going up to the roof and…oh. Oh. OH. Fuck. Shit fuck balls. **FUCKKKKK**.

Darcy rolled over and reached under the chaise lounge, trying to find her clothes. Her hands brushed across her glasses, so she grabbed them and put them on. As she looked around, she noticed a note sitting on top of something square on the ground.

She opened it and sat up, covering herself with the blanket. The note was short:

_Guess I was the right person to fuck. Round two?_

_-C.B._

Darcy looked on the ground again. There, where the note had been, was her iPod!

Maybe being stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere wasn't going to be so bad, after all…


	3. Four Months Later

_Three months later…_

Darcy had started every morning for the last four months cursing Agent Barton's name. That first morning, it was because she woke up naked and hungover on the roof of the lab. The second, because he had been reassigned. The third, fourth…fiftieth, it was because he hadn't called. Or texted. Or made any contact with her whatsoever.

The fifty-first day, Darcy woke up and immediately ran to the bathroom. By that point, she and Jane were in Tromso – Jane doing science and Darcy pretending to. Darcy just figured all the weird shit they served here was to blame on her nausea. Darcy didn't know how to blame that on Clint, but she would find a way to do so.

The next thirty days followed that pattern. Darcy woke up every morning, puked her guts up, and then continued on about her research assistant business.

And then she and Jane were being shipped back to the States, to participate in some top-secret SHIELD business. They were apparently going to live in Stark Tower (which was wicked cool, in Darcy's opinion).

Darcy spent most of the flight in the bathroom, tossing up her cookies. Gawd, she was so over this.

* * *

_Another month later…_

Since their return to New York, Darcy had been appointed official babysitter to the Avengers. Agent Coulson (who was dead but now wasn't?) was her direct supervisor, so she spent mornings in his office at SHIELD, doing paperwork, and afternoons at Stark Tower in the lab, making coffee and toasting PopTarts.

Darcy woke up that morning to another wave of nausea. Like all the mornings for the last three months, she spent ten minutes in the bathroom, communing with the porcelain god, before getting ready for work.

When she got to SHIELD, Agent Coulson pulled her into his office. "Miss Lewis, I need you to prepare reinstatement papers for a member of the Avengers Initiative. I also need you to set up the mandatory psych eval and prepare housing for Hawkeye. Then I need you to go by Stark Industries to pick up the specs that we need to read over for release."

Darcy mock saluted. "Righty-o, Son of Coul. An R-7752 and a P-59 forms, along with a call to JARVIS?" At his nod, she turned back to her desk. "Wait a second, who is Hawkeye?" she asked as she sat down, digging in a drawer for the proper forms.

Agent Coulson gave her a look that held just a hint of sorrow and a dash of pity. "You probably know him as Agent Barton. He was assigned to your detail in New Mexico at one point.

_Shitfuckgoddamnitfuckballsga gmewithaspoon _was Darcy's last coherent thought before she started hyperventilating.

* * *

Phil Coulson immediately reacted to Darcy's panic attack. He forced her to sit on the floor and put her head between her knees. He coached her through taking deep breaths until she was once more, able to breathe normally.

Then Darcy started crying. Oddly enough, Phil was used to such occurrences, so he pulled out a freshly laundered handkerchief and passed it to her. Darcy blew her nose, and then laid her head on his shoulder as they sat on the floor in silence.

"So…you're pretty good at the breathing thing." Darcy said, breaking the silence. "Wanna be my Lamaze coach?"

Phil smiled and kissed her on the forehead. In the month they had been working together, Darcy Lewis had somehow passed through his emotionless façade and made him almost crack a smile in public more times than he could count. He had watched as Darcy had fetched coffee, forced food down his throat, organized papers, and scared off more junior agents than he would have thought possible. Yet he felt oddly protective of her ever since she had laid form M-9749 across her desk. Especially once he saw the other name on the form. And since that person had been AWOL since the incidents over the summer, Phil felt like it was his duty to help Darcy out through this time in her life. So he gave her a brief smile. "I'll have my assistant check my schedule."

* * *

After her daily minor breakdown, Darcy finished off the proper forms, and called JARVIS. Of course, the suite of rooms had already been prepared for Hawkeye. Around 11:00, Darcy dropped one of the forms off at the shrink's office and left the other on Coulson's desk.

When she left SHIELD, Darcy caught a cab to the offices of Stark Industries. While in the back of the cab, she fielded two calls from Senator Brackenthorn's office. That man was determined to use the Avengers as a publicity stunt for his next campaign, and Darcy was determined to keep him from doing so.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but the answer is no. The answer was no yesterday. The answer will be no tomorrow." Darcy said in her most patient voice. She heard a dial tone. Guess she told him!

The cab pulled up at Stark Industries. Darcy waved at the security guards as she made her way up to Pepper's office. "Morning, guys! Is Miss Potts in her office?"

"Sure thing, Miss Lewis. I'll let her know you're coming up."

Darcy sank down in a plush leather chair in front of Pepper's desk while Pepper arranged the files Darcy needed. She wiggled down in the comfy chair, enjoying the brief respite. Darcy was tired, her feet hurt, and she could no longer button her pants. If she wanted to take a power nap in Pepper's office, ain't nobody gonna stop her.

Darcy opened one eye when she heard Pepper turn around. Pepper gave her a mothering look. "Are you okay?"

With that simple question, Darcy burst into tears for the second time that day. "No, I'm not! I'm tired all the time and I can't handle bacon anymore and my pants don't fit and Barton is moving back into the Tower!" she gasped out between sobs.

Pepper came around the desk and squatted beside Darcy's chair. "Honey, it'll be okay." She made soothing noises as Darcy finished her latest crying jag. Once Darcy blew her nose, Pepper smiled. "I can at least remedy one of those problems." She said as she helped Darcy to her feet.

As Pepper led Darcy to the Stark Industries garage, she typed out a quick text to Agent Coulson. _Darcy needs day off. Am sending Happy over with package._

"Happy, we're going shopping." Pepper said as she and Darcy slid into the backseat of a Town Car.

* * *

Clint picked the wrong time of year to move back to New York. For the month after the attack on the city, he had been sitting on a beach in Baja California, drinking beer and doing not a damn thing. He didn't get dressed, didn't shave, and only showered when he got rank. He cashed in his vacation days and escaped. It gave him time to reevaluate all the events that had happened in the last four months. Surprisingly, it hadn't been his takeover by Loki that gave him the most heartache; it was the memory of a mouthy brunette in New Mexico who blew his mind with her passion and wit.

And now it was fall, and chilly, and Clint didn't really feel like wearing pants and jackets again. But he was here, and back on duty, and he would try not to complain too much about the nip in the air. And he had no way of knowing whether or not he would ever see said brunette again.

Clint sat in the communal kitchen at Stark Towers, eating a BLT and listening to Thor and Tony catch him up on recent events. Bruce and Dr. Foster were in the lab, he was told, and Steve was in the gym. Natasha was on a mission somewhere in South Africa.

Suddenly, JARVIS spoke up. "Mr. Stark, Miss Potts is returning. She asks that everyone be present in the living room when she gets here."

Tony rolled his eyes at the AI. "And what Miss Potts says, goes. To the living room."

Clint followed his teammates out of the kitchen, still not fully familiar with the layout of the Tower yet. They ran into Steve in the hallway, his freshly showered hair still wet. When they got to the living room, Bruce and Dr. Foster were already there – Bruce standing awkwardly by the window, and Dr. Foster in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. She hopped up, and Thor took her place in the chair. She nestled in comfortably on his lap, while Tony sprawled on the couch. Clint perched on the arm of the couch, still eating his sandwich.

Pepper Potts came in with a flourish, carrying shopping bags and looking as polished as ever. She was a beautiful woman, Clint had to admit, but his tastes went more towards curvy brunettes with a potty mouth.

Tony perked up at the sight of the shopping bags. "Anything good in there? Lingerie? New shoes?"

Pepper gave a light laugh. "Yes to both, actually, but these aren't for me," she said, pointing at the logo on the bag. Tony's look changed to one of understanding, as did the rest of the team's.

Obviously, there was something going on that Clint didn't know about.

Pepper sat the bags down on the floor and leaned over to give Tony a kiss. As she stood back up, she made a Vanna White gesture with her hands. "Lady and gentlemen, I would like to present to you…the Lewis baby bump!"

Clint's mouth went dry as the brunette that had been haunting his thoughts for the last four months came walking in to the room shyly. She had on a swingy black skirt, gray t-shirt, and combat boots (which Clint found oddly sexy, and suddenly he was picturing her wearing just those). His brain went off on tangents until she turned, and he noticed that her silhouette was a little…rounder than the last time he had seen it.

* * *

Darcy struck a pose, hands on her hips as she arched her back to show off her now-noticeable bump. Pepper had taken her to a maternity store and convinced Darcy that she could wear _those_ clothes and still look like the badass bitch that she was. So Pepper and Darcy had gone a little crazy, and Darcy ended the afternoon with a trunk full of shopping bags and a pregnancy cookbook that she was just dying to try out.

The combat boots had been an impulse purchase; they reminded Darcy of rooftops in New Mexico and silly drinking games and archers who apparently couldn't work a phone. She told herself, even as she added them to her purchases, that it was stupid to think of _him_, but she couldn't stop. So she bought them, and put them on in the car, hoping that their badass factor would help offset any nerves she had about debuting her new physical state to the world.

Then, the smell hit her. Darcy covered her mouth, trying desperately not to lose what little lunch she had managed to get down. "Who's eating bacon?" she managed to squeak out before making a mad dash to the bathroom.

Pepper rushed after Darcy as Clint watched his teammates all turned to glare at him, sandwich in hand. "Didn't you see the list?" Steve asked, anger crossing his face. "Bacon is not allowed right now."

Tony made a gleeful noise. "Now Darcy gets to Tase him!"

Jane hopped up out of Thor's lap. "I'll get the crackers and club soda." She pointed at Bruce. "You go get the Febreze." He nodded, and left the room.

Clint looked helplessly at the innocent BLT in his hand. "What list?"

Thor physically picked him up and carried the archer into the kitchen. As Clint was roughly deposited in a chair, Steve stole his sandwich, chucked it in the trash, and pointed at a list written on the whiteboard on the wall.

**Smells D. Can't Handle:  
**Mu shu pork  
Bacon  
Parmesan cheese  
Hamburgers  
Bleach  
Apple-scented Febreze  
Tangerines  
_Note: causing these smells will result in you getting Tased_

"Okay, what the fuck is going on here?" Clint asked, confused. He quickly turned around at the sound of Darcy's voice.

"It's simple. I'm pregnant, morning sickness doesn't just happen in the morning, and it's all your fault." With a tired sigh, she turned and left the room, taking the crackers Jane silently offered her.

Everyone turned to look at Clint. Stunned, mouth agape, he sat in the kitchen chair, trying to wrap his head on what Darcy had just said. Eventually, Bruce nudged him. "You should probably go talk to her," he said quietly, breaking the spell Clint was under.

He fumbled to his feet, hands shaking. "Yeah. I should- yeah."

Bruce was the only one who took pity on the nerve-wracked assassin. "I'll show you the way."

* * *

It wasn't exactly her finest moment, but Darcy was proud of how she'd managed her first interaction with Clint. At least she hadn't started crying.

She heard a quiet knock on her door. Tucking her Taser into the waist band of her skirt, she opened it. In front of her, after four months of radio silence, stood the man that she couldn't stop thinking about.

So she Tased him.


	4. Possessive Ex-Lovers

Clint woke up to the sound of a blow dryer. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room he was in. He was lying on a surprising comfy couch. There were posters on the wall of Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and for something called Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. A coffee table, now covered in shopping bags, was in front of him, and behind that was a small, galley style kitchen with a bar separating the two rooms. To his right was a bedroom. Instead of a wall, it had open bookshelves separating the two rooms. They were filled – mostly with books, but there were some photos and knick knacks as well. To his left was another door – closed – but he went with door number one and walked into what, he decided, must be Darcy's bedroom.

The bed was unmade. Pillows and clothes and shoes were scattered everywhere. It made Clint smile – the chaos matched Darcy's personality. He followed the sound of the blow dryer into her bathroom.

Darcy was bent over at the waist, blow drying her riotous curls. Clint leaned against the door frame and watched as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb out any tangles. As she flipped her hair back up, he caught her eye in the mirror.

She turned it off. As he watched, she started to put on her eyeliner. Clint noticed that Darcy had changed since he last remembered. She was wearing a flowy shirt that hid her bump and sinfully tight black jeans. "Going somewhere?"

Darcy didn't even turn around to answer him. "I have plans."

"But I just got back, and we obviously need to talk." Clint internally cringed when he heard the bit of whine in his voice.

Darcy raised one eyebrow at him in the mirror. "Now you want to talk to me?" She applied her lipstick – a dark purple color that starkly contrasted with her pale face. Clint watched, entranced, as she swiped the dark color across those lush lips.

She whirled around. "After four months of radio silence – after four months of me trying to call you or email you or get a damn smoke signal – now you want to fucking talk?"

Clint watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek, smudging her eyeliner. His shoulders slumped, "Look, Darcy, I'm sorry. I got reassigned to a top secret project that morning. They wouldn't let me have any outside contact. And then…" he took a shuddering breath.

"…and then Loki took over your brain, and then shit hit the fan. I know." Darcy gave him a sad smile. "I even know all about Project PEGASUS."

"How do you know about that?"

Darcy shrugged. "I'm Coulson's assistant now, among other things. I have a pretty high security clearance."

She tried to brush past him, but Clint caught her arm. "Darcy, please." He said, softly. "Talk to me."

She lifted his hand from her arm, and he let it drop to his side. "I'm late, and Bobby gets annoyed when people are late. Logan, not so much, but Bobby, definitely," she added offhandedly, sitting on her bed to pull on high-heeled boots.

A shot of jealousy sucker-punched Clint in the gut. He had been pining over this girl for the last four months and here she was, going out to meet other men. "Who are Bobby and Logan? And where are you going?"

Darcy stood and grabbed a leather jacket off her bed. As she slid it on, she said, "I'm sorry, but you lost any and all rights you had to play the possessive lover when you knocked me up and didn't call me. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy one of my last nights out with my friends." With that parting shot, she left.

* * *

Clint wandered around the Tower for an hour while he tried to figure out what to do to make amends with Darcy. He was somewhere on the floor with Dr. Foster's lab when, suddenly, Natasha appeared.

"Nat, when did you get back?"

She stared at him, expressionless. "About an hour ago. You?"

"This afternoon."

They had a silent Mexican standoff in the hallway, Clint wanting to ask her about Darcy and Natasha patiently waiting for him to do so. Finally, Clint gave in. "Do you know where Darcy went?"

Natasha raised one eyebrow. Clint knew, in Nat-speak, that gesture meant _Dear Lord, you are being an idiot_. "I saw her as I came in. She said something about meeting Logan and Bobby for drinks and invited me to join them."

Clint all but growled at those names again. "Who the hell are Bobby and Logan?"

Natasha just stared at him, a smile quirking her lips at his apparent jealousy. She took pity on the poor man. "Let me change and I will take you with me to meet them."

* * *

Darcy sat in a booth, nursing a glass of water (with extra lime, so it looks like it might be alcoholic). She, Bobby Drake, Logan, and Logan's friend called Jubilee are listening to a 80's cover band who was surprisingly good, and Darcy really just wanted to get up and dance, but she can't.

She leans over to Bobby, who has just done his fourth Irish car bomb and is feeling pretty good. "Hey Bobby!" she yells in his ear.

"Hey Darcy!" he yells back, leaning into her.

"Wanna go dance with me?"

Bobby smiles drunkenly at her as he leans his head on her shoulder. God, but Darcy misses the days when that would be her, leaning drunkenly on her friends. "Mm-kay," he slurs.

Darcy stands up, takes his hand, and drags him out of the booth. She catches Logan's eye and points to the dance floor. He nods, and Darcy starts to lead Bobby out when a glimpse of red catches her eye.

Not any red, but Black Widow red. Darcy jumps and waves to Natasha, trying to show the woman where the group is sitting, but she notices the man walking in behind her.

It's Clint.

Fuck.

* * *

Clint watched as Darcy led some drunken frat boy out on the dance floor. He wants to follow them, to come up behind them and rip that guy's hand from hers, but Nat holds him back. She stops at the bar, gets them both drinks, then leads him over to a table where a stocky guy with muttonchops and a young girl sit, listening to the band.

The man stands up to hug her. He can hear Natasha murmur, "Hello, little uncle."

"Hello, princess." The man says back. Natasha introduces the two men, and Clint plays nice and shakes the other man's hand. If this is Logan, the frat boy must be Bobby. The girl is introduced as Jubilee, and the four settle down to listen to the band.

Clint watches as Darcy dances with abandon. She shakes her hips and fluffs her hair and points her fingers at the ceiling. Frat boy – Bobby – spins her and a smile crosses her face. Clint realizes that that is the first moment he had seen Darcy truly happy since he had returned.

Guilt began to gnaw at him, so he took a long swallow of beer.

The band finished the song, and announced that they were taking a short break. Darcy and Bobby weaved their way back to the table.

Clint scooted over, trying to make room for Darcy. Instead, Bobby sprawled next to him, and Darcy pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the table. She fanned herself, saying "Shit, that was some exercise!"

Bobby drunkenly leaned over to her and put his hand on the back of her neck. "Lemme help." He slurred, and Clint watch as frost appeared on his hand.

Darcy lifted her hair and murmured her thanks. Clint saw red.

* * *

The next thing Darcy knew, Clint was jerking Bobby away from her – which sucked, because she was melting and Bobby's ice trick felt really good. But she could see the anger across Clint's face, and she quickly jumped in and intervened. After all, breaking up fights between superheroes with egos was kind of her day job.

Jerking Clint over Bobby, she said, "Okay, Robin Hood, that's enough. Bobby, Logan, it was good to see you but I think it's past my bedtime. Tasha, I'll see you tomorrow at the Tower. Jubilee, it was nice to meet you." She dragged the archer behind her as she stomped out of the bar.

When they reached outside, a blast of cool air hit them, cooling Darcy's temper. "What the fuck is your problem?" she said, turning to stare at Clint.

He mumbled under his breath, "I didn't like him touching you."

Darcy stared at Clint, trying to understand where this random jealousy was coming from. "I was dripping sweat. Bobby is like an icicle – literally – and was cooling me off. What's the big deal?" As Clint opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of a reason, Darcy waved her hands in the air. "Nevermind. Let's just go back to the Tower and get this conversation over with. My feet fucking hurt and I'm tired of trying to contain people's egos."

She turned and walked away. She could hear Clint jogging to catch up with her, but made no motion to slow down. The Tower wasn't far from the bar, and Darcy needed to walk off her anger.

A breeze came up behind them, and Darcy shivered, realizing she'd left her jacket at the bar. Hopefully Tasha would bring it back with her. She rubbed her arms.

The next thing she knew, Clint was wrapping his leather jacket around her holding her close to him. Darcy wrapped her hands around the edges of the jacket and inhaled. It smelled like him – like fresh cut wood and motorcycle grease and something indefinably masculine and _Clint_.

Oh no. Darcy would not be seduced by one gentlemanly gesture.

Damn baby hormones.

* * *

They rode the elevator up to Darcy's floor in silence. Darcy opened the door, and Clint followed her in. He sat down on the couch, uncomfortable, as Darcy went into her room to change. She sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in her hormones and emotions.

After a few breaths, Darcy stripped out of her smoky bar clothes. She put on comfy yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She kept on her kickin' tube socks, which were bright blue and pretty much awesome. She took out her contacts and traded them for her glasses.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to her living and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Clint. "So…"

"So…" he echoed back, obviously uncomfortable.

"Here's what I've decided." Darcy stated, without preamble. "I'm having this baby, I'm keeping it, but I won't force you to be involved. I know from first-hand experience that forcing someone to be a parent is a terrible, terrible idea."

Clint turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

Darcy sighed and turned to stare out the window. "My parents were only together for the sake of their baby: me. Listening to them fight was…debilitating," she said, finally deciding on the right word. "No matter how this baby came to be, it will be loved and I will never make it feel unwanted."

Clint leaned across the couch and put his hand over Darcy's. "We will love this baby unconditionally." He swore solemnly as his fingers interlaced with hers.

She turned to face him. "Thank you." Admitting her parents' mistakes was not something she told people, but somehow, Darcy felt a connection with Clint. She pulled him to his feet. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

She led him to what was originally a spare bedroom but was now her nursery. It was empty, but Darcy had gotten Steve to start painting a mural on the walls. One wall was the London skyline at night, and Darcy had put small lights in the upper half of the wall to look like stars. Another had a knotty old tree. Around the door frame were rough outlines of Lost Boys. Darcy herself had started lettering above the window – "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning." Her baby was going to have a Peter Pan-themed room.

Darcy watched as Clint took in the empty room and the paintings on the wall. Steve was ridiculously talented, and the murals were absolutely stunning. A child-like grin spread across his face. "I always wanted to be a Lost Boy," he said.

Darcy smiled as well. "And I always wanted to be Tiger Lily. 'Peter Pan' was one of my favorite books as a child. Movie, too, for that matter."

Clint came and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his head on her shoulder. "I guess we do have something in common."

Darcy started to resist his hug, but she was too tired and too lonely and simply gave into it instead, leaning back against his chest. They stood there, in the quiet of the night, and looked at their baby's nursery, each silently imagining what he or she would be like.

And then Darcy yawned – loudly. "I guess it's bedtime for me," she said, disentangling herself from Clint's arms.

They walked back into the living room and to her door. Clint stepped out, then turned back around to face her. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked solemnly.

Darcy yawned again and thought about her schedule. "I'll be at SHIELD tomorrow until after one. Then I will be in the lab. And oh…shit…the Stark Industries Gala is tomorrow night. Black tie. So it will be schmoozing in a too-tight dress until the wee hours of the morning. At least the day after is Saturday, so I don't have to get up early in the morning."

Clint nodded. "I was informed by Coulson that I have to attend that shindig as well. Do you want to meet for lunch in the SHIELD cafeteria tomorrow? I have my mandatory psych evaluation, so I'll be there for a good chunk of the morning."

Against her better judgment, Darcy nodded. "Sure. 12:30?"

He gave her a quick nod in return. "Okay." They stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, each wondering whether or not this was going to work out.

Clint suddenly leaned in and pulled her into a hug. "Goodnight, Darcy," he whispered into her hair. Darcy felt her arms wrap around him involuntarily. "Sweet dreams," he said as he kissed her forehead.

And then, in that moment, the baby kicked for the first time.


	5. Zero to Sixty

Clint didn't notice the slight kick, so Darcy kept the moment to herself. She crawled into bed, a silly grin on her face.

And then it hit her: ohmigod. She really had another person growing inside her.

* * *

The next morning, Darcy woke up and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't nauseous. So she did a little dance around her room as she got dressed. She put on a pair of slim black maternity pants and a fitted white shirt. If she was going to rock this bump, she was going to fucking _own _it. She tossed on a purple blazer over her shirt. Slipping her feet into her combat boots, she grabbed her tote and some yogurt and headed to SHIELD.

She jammed to her Cheestacular playlist (full of epic 80's hair metal) while on her way to work. She smiled at the security guards working the front desk. It made her laugh when their eyes bugged out at her bump.

Darcy had more swag than Fury himself as she walked through SHIELD. Senior agents managed to hide their reactions, but the junior agents turned and stared as she sashayed into Coulson's office.

When she sat down at her desk in the office, there was a stack of papers waiting to be filed. But even paperwork wouldn't phase her today. Coulson's door was closed, so Darcy put her iPod in the dock and turned up the volume.

She was singing along to Joan Jett's "Do You Want to Touch Me" when Coulson returned. "Good morning, Miss Lewis," he said, as Darcy turned the volume down. "You look well."

Darcy posed, pulling back the ends of her blazer to show off her bump. "_We_ be lookin' good today," she said, making a duck face.

Coulson just smiled, shook his head, and went into his office.

* * *

Darcy's pocket vibrated. _I think I might've made one of the recruits piss himself._ That was from Clint.

Darcy giggled. _What did you do?_

C: _I might have suddenly appeared in the hallway behind them._

D: _Air ducts?_

C: _Yup. You hungry?_

D: _Starving. I am eating for two now, ya know._

C: _Cafeteria?_

D: _Be there soon :)_

* * *

Darcy got to the cafeteria first. She grabbed a salad and a bottle of water, talking herself out of a slice of cake. She was really trying to have better eating habits for her baby, but damn if she didn't want that slice of chocolate cake. She sat down at a table in a far corner of the cafeteria, hoping to avoid the gang of new intel recruits. One of them, Agent Grayson, had made it his personal mission to make her life hell. Darcy didn't want to tattle to Coulson, so she simply tried to ignore the jibes and spilt drinks across her desk.

Darcy propped her feet up and dug her book out of her bag. She was reading just getting to a good scene when her water bottle was spilt across her lap. She closed the book, a finger marking her place. Agent Grayson stood in front of her, a look of mock penance on her face. "Oops."

Darcy sighed and started drying off her lap. She stood, trying to move to go get more napkins, but Agent Grayson blocked her path. "Move it, asshole."

Agent Grayson tutted at her. "Now, Tits-for-brains, that's no way to talk to an agent."

Darcy started to reach for her Taser, but Agent Grayson was whirled around. "What did you call her?" Clint growled, holding the agent's shoulder in a death grip. Agent Grayson stuttered, but Clint cut him off. "If you do anything or say anything to Darcy again, I will personally make your life a living hell. Do you know who I am?"

Agent Grayson shook his head. Clint grabbed the younger man's lapels, jerking him up to his face. "I am Hawkeye."

Clint turned back to Darcy, who was gaping at him. He sat his tray of food down, and passed a slice of chocolate cake over to her. "Got you something," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

And at that moment, Darcy realized that no matter what she'd done to forget him, she was still in love with Clint.

* * *

Clint watched as a stream of emotions played across Darcy's face. He sat back down, pretending nothing had happened. "So how was your morning?"

"I jammed to some 80's music and filed paperwork. Oh! And I didn't throw up this morning. First time in a long time!"

"That is exciting news."

Darcy gave him a cheeky grin. "I know, right? How'd your psych eval go?"

Clint groaned. "They all think I'm a little crazy."

Darcy shrugged. "Who isn't here?" Then she gasped and put her hands on her belly.

Clint jumped up. "What's wrong? What's happening?" Clint's heart stilled. If something was wrong…

Darcy gave him the most beautiful, ecstatic smile. "The baby kicked again!" Clint ran around and sat beside her, placing his hands on her belly. He felt a small nudge against the palm of his hand, and his heart gave a leap. They were having a baby. It was real.

So they sat in the middle of the SHIELD cafeteria, hands on Darcy's belly, feeling the baby move.

* * *

Thirty minutes passed, and Darcy realized that 1) she hadn't eaten any of her salad, 2) she was starving, and 3) her ass had fallen asleep. She moved Clint's hands from her belly. "Dude, you need to feed me."

Clint pulled her to her feet. "I know just the place." Darcy giggled as he led her out of the cafeteria. "Let's play hooky."

Darcy followed Clint out the door and the next thing she knew, she was standing in front of a street vendor serving epic BBQ. Clint bought them both giant sandwiches. They sat on a bench, eating their food.

"So…this is the best fucking sandwich I've ever eaten. Total foodgasm." Darcy said, around a mouthful of BBQ.

Clint laughed at Darcy's choice of description. "So, tell me about yourself, Darcy." Clint said.

Darcy had a slight panic attack. This beautiful assassin who was probably 15 years older than her and a hell of a lot more cultured wanted to know about her? "Um…well, I'm 23, I finally have a degree in poly sci, and..I dunno. What else do you want to know?

Clint took her hand. "Everything," he said, sincerely.

Darcy's hormones went into overdrive. She wavered somewhere between _oh my god please fuck me seven ways to Sunday _and _are you fucking kidding me you douchecanoe?_

Darcy removed her hand from Clint's. "Look, Green Arrow. I know that we're kinda stuck with other, but you are going zero to sixty in nothing flat. Can we just ease into this? Like, be friends first?"

Clint sighed, and then held his hand out. "We'll be friends. Deal?"

Darcy shook it. "Deal."

* * *

Clint took a deep breath. He was floundering in deep water, and Darcy held the only life preserver. The problem was, he didn't know if she would throw it to him or not.

Clint had no idea how to make a relationship work. Other than Natasha, his track record with women was more of the "love 'em and leave 'em" variety. It's not that he was a playboy like Stark. He just had learned early on in his life that most women were not willing to stay with someone like him: someone who killed for a living and still had nightmares about the things he had seen in war. So he took his pleasure from where it was willingly given, and when it was no longer given, he simply…moved on.

He and Natasha got along because they were both coming from the same place. At one point in time, they had been lovers, but that aspect of their relationship fizzled as they both realized that they were more of brothers-in-arms than anything else. So they became friends, and partners.

Clint watched as Darcy took a healthy bite of her sandwich. He liked that Darcy liked food; she wasn't one of those women who counted carbs or calories or whatever it was. "So what's the thing for Stark tonight?" he asked her, trying to find a neutral topic.

She covered her mouth as she finished chewing her food. After she had swallowed, she said, "It's a gala, benefiting the various charities Stark Industries supports. Pepper roped me into babysitting Tony while she schmoozes with various donors, so I have to hang out with him all night."

Clint's face fell. "So…you're Tony's date, basically?"

Darcy made a face of disgust. "Oh, dear God no. Though I have pretty much the best rack ever, I don't meet Tony's supermodel requirements. I'm more there to keep Tony away from the bar and the groupies."

Clint glanced at the aforementioned rack, then flicked his gaze back up to Darcy's face. She raised an eyebrow, having caught him checking her out. "Yeah, you do have the best rack ever," he said, caught in the act.

Darcy gestured with her hands. "And they've gotten even bigger! That's a plus in the pregnancy tally." Clint swallowed and shifted, trying to ease the sudden pressure in his lower half.

"So…" Clint said, attempting to get the discussion back on the track. "Will that take all night? Or will Pepper make it back to Tony."

"Oh, I'm sure she will. And no matter what, you owe me at least two dances. Minimum." Darcy said, turning to shake a finger at him.

"I do? Why?"

"Your little stunt with Bobby last night cut my dancing short, and I love dancing. Ergo, you must make up for that."

Clint shrugged. "I could probably take care of that for you." At that simple statement, both turned and stared at each other, the words taking them back to a rooftop in New Mexico. Clint could feel himself leaning in to kiss Darcy when suddenly, her phone chirped.

Darcy pulled back and answered it. "Darcy Lewis," she said in an oddly professional voice. "Yes, I need the tuxes to Stark Tower by 4 o'clock. Be sure to send at least two tailors; we're on a bit of a time crunch." Another pause. "There should be five tuxedos." Pause. "Yes, five. Mr. Stark already has his." Pause. "Of course. Thank you for your time." As she ended the call, she turned back to Clint. "Back to work! By the way, you have a tux fitting at 4. Be there or I will hunt you down and Tase you again."

Clint saluted her. "Yes ma'am!" He got up, and helped Darcy to her feet. The two caught a cab and headed back to Stark Tower, talking about the gala the whole way back.

* * *

Clint was in interrogation. That's what the tuxedo fittings were a cover for: a chance for the other men in the Tower to berate him for his treatment of Darcy.

Steve was the first. "You know, it's not polite of you to leave Miss Lewis in a bind like that," he said, glowering at Clint as a tailor hemmed his pants.

Clint wanted to punch him. Of course Mr. All-American-and-Mom's-apple-pie would be judging him. Instead, he tried to be diplomatic. "I was sent on a mission right after Darcy and I's…interlude," he said, trying to find a word that wouldn't embarrass Cap and wouldn't make Darcy sound trashy. "I had no idea that Darcy was even here, let alone pregnant, until I got back."

Thor nodded at Clint. "Yes, my comrade, I understand. I was summoned back to Asgard after Lady Jane and I's first meeting. I had no idea if – or when – I would see my fair maiden again." Clint relaxed a little. At least someone was on his side.

Tony snorted from his position as observer of the fittings. "Yeah, Point Break, but you didn't knock your lady up." At Thor's confused look, Tony added, "Get her pregnant. With child. Whatever you want to call it."

Thor nodded, then turned back to Clint. "If you cause my little lightning sister any discomfort, I will send bilgesnipes to hunt you down." He threatened.

Clint crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "Did it ever occur to any of you that Darcy might cause me some discomfort?"

All the men responded "No," in unison.

Clint grunted. Obviously, he wasn't going to win this round.

* * *

Darcy was a wreck. The dress she had originally gotten for this shindig wouldn't zip anymore. She frantically called Pepper. "What do I do?!" she wailed into the phone.

"After shopping with you yesterday, I called in and found you a more comfortable ball gown. It should be arriving soon."

Darcy could've kissed Pepper for her efficiency. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She could hear Pepper's smile. "You'll look beautiful, Darce."

As Pepper hung up, there was a knock on Darcy's door. "Miss Lewis, I believe that is your new ball gown." JARVIS informed her.

Darcy opened the door and found a box sitting on the floor. She bent over and picked it up – realizing that bending over wasn't going to be possible pretty soon – and carried it inside. She sat it on her bed and tentatively opened the box.

Inside was the most beautiful dress Darcy had ever seen. It was a deep purple, and made of a loose, flowing material. As Darcy pulled it out, she noticed that it had a higher waist that would help hide her bump. Blessed St. Pepper of the Fashion Emergencies.

Darcy puttered around her bathroom, playing with her hair. As she pinned up the riotous curls, she was lost in thought about Clint. Darcy was bad at relationships. She knew how to be friends with guys – hell, look at her current situation. Most of her good friends here were guys (superheroes, but, ya know, still guys at the end of the day). But Darcy had no idea how to date. She was more of a party-hardy girl; drink too much tequila and take the nearest cute guy home. But this situation with Clint was going to be so different. Darcy was scared to death of screwing it up.

Darcy applied her makeup, still lost in thought. She kept thinking about Clint, and about what she had managed to glean from his file before Coulson caught her. Lost in thought, she lost track of time until she glanced at the clock.

Shit! Darcy had to be at the limo in ten minutes!

Luckily, she had finished doing the pretty. Darcy stepped into the dress, careful not to mess up her hair. As Darcy was attempting to reach the zipper in the back, a knock sounded at the door. Holding her dressed closed, Darcy opened the door.

Clint stood on the other side, wearing a tux and holding a single white rose. He looked good enough to eat, and Darcy felt like a woman dying of starvation. "Please, come in," she said, trying to hide her nerves and lust.

As Clint entered, Darcy took the rose and set it on a side table. Turning her back to Clint, she said, "Can you zip me?"

* * *

Clint was taken aback when he saw Darcy. She looked like some porcelain goddess, too beautiful for mere mortal men to touch. The dress hid her belly, yet did wonderful things to the generous curves Darcy already had. Clint wanted to rip it off of her.

When she turned around, Clint nearly lost his self-control. She offered up the pale skin of her back, proving to Clint that there wasn't a whole lot going on underneath that dress. After a moment of tongue-tied lust, he figured out the Darcy wanted him to zip her dress. "S-sure." He stuttered. His fingers fumbled on the tiny pull of the zipper, but finally, he got a hold on it and pulled the zipper up, hiding her milky back from his view.

He couldn't fully resist, so he pressed a tiny kiss between her shoulder blades. He stood back up, saying, "There. All done."

* * *

Darcy felt the feather-light kiss against her back, and the baby kicked. _Well, it's obvious where your loyalties lie_, she internally chided. She turned back around and faced Clint. "Not quite. Let me grab my shoes, bag, and jewelry and we can go."

Darcy dashed back into her room, trying to calm her feelings. Underneath the dress in the box had been a pair of sparkly purple pumps and a simply amethyst bracelet on loan from Pepper. Darcy put them on, sprayed herself with perfume, and went back out. Her bag was sitting on the table by the door.

When she returned, Clint held out his arm. "Shall we?"

She smiled and took his arm as she grabbed her bag. "We shall."

As they stood in the elevator, waiting for it to reach the first floor, Clint leaned over and ran his nose along Darcy's neck. "I like your perfume," he murmured.

Darcy's knees weakened, remembering the last time he had done that. "T-thanks." She managed to say. "It's Givenchy."

Keeping his face buried in her neck, he said, "When I left, I could smell it on my skin. As I went about my mission, I kept smelling it on the wind. I would look around, trying to find a glimpse of you, but no luck."

Darcy was _this _close to turning and kissing him when the elevator dinged, letting them know they were at the ground floor. Clint straightened, and led Darcy out to the limo.

Darcy sighed internally, already missing the feel of him on her skin.

Tony stuck his head out of the sunroof. "Hurry it up, you two!" So much for the moment.


	6. Late Night Confessions

Darcy slid into the limo and squeezed in between Jane and Pepper. "Make way, lady with a baby," she yelled as she scootched in. Darcy watched as Clint crawled in as well and sat on the end next to Steve.

Of course, now that the baby started kicking, it was like there was a chorus line in Darcy's uterus. Darcy rubbed her ribcage, trying to alleviate the new pressure. Clint noticed her gesture, and the two shared a smile across the limo. Jane noticed her gesture, and asked her if she was okay. "Yeah. The baby is active tonight."

Jane gave her a shocked look. "The baby is moving?!" she screeched. Making grabby hands, she reached for Darcy's belly. "Lemme feel."

And that's how Darcy ended up with the members of the Avengers Initiative feeling up her baby bump.

Except for Tony – he said that babies were boring, rolled his eyes, and drank his bourbon.

* * *

After two hours of keeping Tony away from the blondes and the bourbon, Pepper took over Tonysitting duties and Darcy was free to enjoy the party. Except…Darcy couldn't drink anymore. So…what was she supposed to do at a party?

Darcy sipped her water and people-watched. There was a tap on her shoulder. Darcy turned, and Steve held out his hand. "Miss Lewis, you look lonely. Would you care to dance?" Darcy smiled and accepted the offered hand.

Over the last month, Darcy and Steve had developed a very…comfortable relationship. Steve was somewhere between Darcy's protective older brother and technologically deficient grandpa. She loved him to pieces for his adorable-ness, and Steve loved her total bluntness. So Darcy had made it her mission to teach Steve all about the cool pop culture references, like _Firefly _and _Buffy_. Steve, in return, made sure that Darcy never carried all her groceries up on her own and was willing to talk about her fear of babies with her. Steve had somehow become…family to her, and she could no more say no to him than she could cut off her arm.

Luckily, it was a slow dance, because Steve, for all his super serum-enhanced skills, was not a very good dancer. "So…why isn't Agent Barton by your side?"

Darcy shrugged. "I think he's talking to a senator or a supermodel or something."

Steve frowned. "He should be with you."

Darcy gave Steve a slightly patronizing smile. "Steven, I am perfectly fine on my own. I'm pregnant; that doesn't mean I'm suddenly helpless and fragile."

Steve gave Darcy a patronizing smile in return. "Whatever you say, ma'am."

Darcy groaned. Steve ma'am-ing her was his way of saying _oh, bless your heart honey, but that is a stupid idea_. But Darcy decided that dancing with America's Literal Sweetheart ™ was a nice way to distract her from one dumb-ass assassin's lack of attention, so she would go along with what he said.

The two danced and chit-chatted about the gala. After a few minutes, the song ended and Steve escorted her off the dance floor. Darcy was all set to sit down and ditch her heels when Senator Brackenthorn intercepted the two of them.

"Captain Rogers, may I have a word?" he asked, trying to slide in between Darcy and Steve.

Darcy all but elbowed her way back into the conversation. "Senator, Steve here was escorting me to get a drink. So you'll have to excuse us."

* * *

Steve watched as Darcy maneuvered the man that had come up to talk to them. Steve assumed, based on Darcy's statement and general demeanor, that this man was the annoying senator who wouldn't stop pestering her about using the Avengers in his next campaign. Brackleaf? Blackthorne? Something like that.

He gave a polite smile as he placed Darcy's arm in his. "Yes, Senator, please excuse us. I would hate to break my promise to the lovely Miss Lewis here."

They started to turn, and the Senator grabbed Darcy's arm. "So, you're the roadblock." He gave her a quick up and down look. "Huh." He said in a degrading tone.

Steve wanted to say something – to teach this rude man a lesson in how to treat women – but Darcy placed a hand on his arm and gave him a Look. It was a look he recognized; it meant _let me fight my own battles _and _thanks for the concern, but I got this. _So Steve stepped back and watched as his the woman who had somehow become his closest friend dressed down a member of the government.

Darcy leaned in very close to the Senator. "Listen, darling," she purred, in a voice that sounded eerily like Natasha. "I am pregnant. I have enough hormones going through me for four grown women, and I carry a Taser at all times – even now," she said, tapping her tiny bag. "I would just hate to accidentally break your Pacemaker because you were a prick and I had to Tase you. That would be just…terrible," she said with a smirk that implied it would be anything but that.

With a golden smile, she turned back to him. "Shall we go get that drink?"

* * *

Clint watched the exchange between Darcy, Cap, and a shorter man with interest. From what he could tell, the man was trying to talk to Cap, and Darcy put a stop to it. Clint didn't really care about that – from what he had gleaned from Darcy's file and what he had witnessed earlier in the day, Darcy could take of herself.

What interested Clint was the dynamic between Cap and Darcy. Cap had one hand on Darcy's lower back, and was rubbing circles with it. Darcy gave him a grateful look, and leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked to an empty table.

Clint watched as the two sat and drank the water a server had given them. Darcy took off her shoes and put her bare feet in Cap's lap. He made a face, and she laughed at him. They talked, and it was not only the most animated Clint had ever seen Cap, but the most comfortable he had ever seen Darcy.

It was like watching a train wreck; Clint was slightly horrified yet couldn't look away. Had he somehow lost Darcy to Steve?

* * *

Darcy was really glad she had Steve as a friend. He didn't really like parties, so he was willing to play wallflower with her. So for the past twenty or so minutes, they had been sitting at a table, drinking water and talking.

"So…it's about a girl investigating her best friend's death?"

"Exactly! And there are, like, mini-mysteries in each episode." Darcy said, trying to convince Steve to watch _Veronica Mars _with her. "It's like…if Phillip Marlowe had boobs and went to high school in California," she explained, trying to make a reference Steve would understand.

"Not Sam Spade?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Nah. He's a dick. Marlowe pretends to be a dick and hides his knight-in-shining-armor persona behind all the snark. Veronica pretends to be a bitch instead of a dick."

Steve gave her an odd look. "How do you know about pulp fiction?"

Darcy shrugged. "I was an English major for two semesters. One of the classes I took was called Hard-Boiled and Noir in American Film and Fiction. It was actually kind of interesting."

They were arguing about the two detectives when Clint came up and stood between them awkwardly. "Can I butt in?"

Darcy removed her feet from Steve's lap and folded them underneath her. "Sure. I'm trying to convince Steve to watch _Veronica Mars _with me."

Steve held up his hands in defeat. "Fine! You convinced me. We'll watch some episodes soon."

Darcy did a victory dance in her chair. "Aw yissssss."

Steve stood awkwardly. "So, uh…do you want my chair?" he asked Clint. "Because…uh…I think Pepper is waving at me." With that terrible excuse, he scurried away from the table.

Clint sat in the now-empty chair and turned to Darcy. "So…Steve is a bad liar."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "He's Mr. All-American Boy Scout ™. I think it's genetically encoded in him that he can't lie."

Darcy tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. "Tired?" Clint asked.

"It's like I can't stay up past 11 o'clock anymore. Which is so depressing, because I do all of my quality creeping action in the middle of the night."

He gave her a strange look. "I can take you home, if you want?" Darcy nodded in agreement, and the two left the party.

The walk out was in silence.

The cab ride was in silence.

The elevator ride up was in silence.

Darcy exited at her floor. _Well fuck you too, _she thought as the elevator doors closed without so much as a word from Clint.

What a weirdo.

* * *

Three weeks passed, and Clint barely talked to her. Oh, he would say hi in the hallways at SHIELD, and he took her to lunch in the cafeteria every Monday, but their conversation never went any deeper than the latest watercooler tidbit.

Finally, around 10:30 one night, Darcy got fed up with it. She just didn't understand Clint's strange behavior. And since Darcy likes to understand everything…she was going to Velma this shit and get to the bottom of this mystery.

Already comfortably ensconced in her sleep clothes (yoga shorts, a cami with a built-in bra, and crazy knee socks) (hey, don't judge, her feet get cold), Darcy threw on an oversized hoodie and the nearest pair of shoes and trekked up to Clint's suite of rooms, two floors above hers.

She knocked on the door before she lost her courage. After a minute, she could hear someone shuffling to the door. He opened it, mumbling, "Geez, Tasha, let an old man nap, would ya?" At the sight of Darcy, he stood up straight. "Hi."

Darcy took in his bed head and scruff, which was way too attractive for her hormones to be handling. He only had on loose sweats that hung low on his hips, showing off cut lines that Darcy wanted to lick.

But the real clencher was his bare feet. Darcy found the casualness of it all just too damn wonderful.

"Hi." She sighed back. She shook her head, trying to regain her focus. "Why are you being weird?" she asked bluntly.

He stared at her, sleep still in his eyes. "Wha-?"

Darcy ticked off her reasons on her fingers. "You barely talk to me, you don't want to spend any time with the group if I'm there, you act like I'm your maiden aunt that you have to censor everything for, you don't even mock-flirt with me, or try to feel the baby. What's your damage?"

Clint looked at her. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

Darcy glanced down at herself. In her haste, she hadn't realized that her hoodie was longer than her shorts, so it looked like that was all she was wearing. And the shoes she was wearing were her combat boots, which was highly ironic for so many reasons to her. "Clothes," however, was the smart-ass response she came up with. "Which is more than you can say. So, what the fuck is your problem?

Clint opened the door all the way, rubbing his eyes. "Can we not have this discussion in the hallway? Please, come in."

Darcy stepped in the doorway and took stock of Clint's quarters. The couch and coffee table were covered with arrows, quivers, parts, knives and other tools of his trade. He followed her gaze and, embarrassed, attempted to clean everything up.

Darcy waved her hands at him. "No, no, it's cool. We'll just sit on your bed and talk." Taking the lead, she went into what she assumed was his bedroom.

The room was done in muted grays. The headboard was an oddly fanciful twist of cast-iron that Darcy was instantly jealous of. She sat down on the rumpled comforter and patted the space next to her. "Sit. Let's chat."

He sat down gingerly next to her. "What's up?"

"Did I…do or say something that made you mad at me?"

"Geez, Darce, no. If anyone deserves to be mad at this situation it's you."

Darcy shrugged. "Been there, done that, decided that the anger didn't outweigh the joy and tossed it aside." Her face becoming serious again, she turned to face Clint. "Then why are you avoiding me?"

* * *

As soon as she asked the question, Clint realized that was exactly what he had been doing. He had told himself he was going slow, or that he was giving her an opportunity to be with someone her own age. But when it came down to it, he was just avoiding the girl who held his heart in her hands.

Finally, he decided to just be vague. "I don't know."

Darcy huffed at him. "Look, Clint, if we're going to make this work – and you have no idea how much I want this to work – we need to be completely honest with each other. Or, as honest as we can be since my security clearance level isn't all that high yet," she amended. "So what is bothering you?"

Clint jumped into his explanation, feet first – which, to be honest, was his approach to life. "When I saw you with Cap at the gala, and how comfortable you two were together, I just feel like…you can do better than me. And now you're stuck with me." He said, staring at his hands.

He could see Darcy toeing her shoes – those combat boots he loved – out of the corner of his eye. "Hey." She said, grabbing his chin and turning his face towards hers. "Steve is like my totally hetero gay best friend. You are the father of my baby and the man whose forearms I want to lick. I am the slightly hormonal and always witty preggers one." He could feel a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. She grinned in return. "Now that we've got our roles assigned, let's cuddle, chat, and maybe make out a little bit because that scruff is really working for you." She winked at him and started to unzip her sweatshirt.

Clint turned around and arranged the pillows so it would be comfortable for her. When he turned back around, he was momentarily dumbstruck because, _God_, Darcy had great breasts. At that current moment, she was making a face of discomfort and attempting to rearrange them in her shirt. Clint couldn't look away.

Finally, he managed to drag his eyes back up to her face. At Darcy's chastising look, he gave her a silly grin. "Sorry. They're just so…."

"Ridiculously out there, I know. I went up a whole cup size! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?"

He shook his head, knowing that was the correct answer. "Can I just-" he said, unconsciously reaching towards them.

Darcy laughed. "Only if you promise to find me a more comfortable shirt to wear."

Clint jumped up and rummaged in his drawers, trying to find a clean shirt. Finally he found one – a soft, purple-y gray that had faded to the point of perfection. It was one of his favorite shirts. "Here," he said, handing the shirt to Darcy, who had climbed underneath the blanket by that point.

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. And here you go," she said, whipping her own shirt off. "You have exactly thirty seconds. Go."

Clint didn't waste any time. He jumped into the bed and slid up next to her. Thoroughly entranced, he palmed each breast with his hands. He delicately slid a thumb over one nipple, and smile in response to Darcy's gasp and slight squirm.

Starting at the top of her left breast, he kissed a trail around the curve and down her sternum. However, his lust got momentarily sidetracked by the mound of Darcy's pregnant stomach. Fascinated and fearful, he placed a gently kiss on the top while running his hands down the side. "Hi baby," he whispered.

Darcy tapped his shoulder. "And…" she said, drawing out the word, "time's up." Clint grudgingly moved as Darcy slipped his shirt on. "Oh wow. This is probably the most comfortable shirt in the history of clothing. You're not getting it back now."

Clint smiled. The shirt looked good on her, and he was okay with giving it up if it meant Darcy wasn't mad at him. He slid under the blankets next to her, and she laid her head on his shoulder."

JARVIS helpfully dimmed the lights. "So…you and Steve..." Clint said.

"…are just friends." Darcy finished. "He's like my big brother. He watches out for me when he's at SHIELD and makes sure I don't carry too much of the groceries and paints the nursery for me. In return, I teach him about pop culture and defuse his temper about Tony and try to dress him like a normal person, not my great-grandpa."

"So…you're not attracted to him?" Clint asked, staring at the ceiling, trying not to watch for a lie on her face.

Darcy snorted. "Babe, I'm attracted to everyone right now, including Natasha and Bruce. I have enough hormones running through me to power a third world country." As Clint turned to look at her, she became serious. "Steve is attractive, but I feel like making a move on him is corrupting him. Having sex with him would be like defiling a national monument."

Clint couldn't help it; he guffawed at that explanation. Darcy laughed too as the laughter shaking Clint's body made her head bounce against his chest.

And that statement broke the ice that had been building around Clint's heart. For the next few hours, they talked about everything silly and nothing serious – including a ranking of asses in the Tower. (His won, of course.)

* * *

Darcy yawned mid-giggle, the action taking her by surprise. She squinted at the clock, trying to make out the glowing numerals (she had taken off her glasses a while ago). "What time is it?" she mumbled into Clint's chest.

He rolled and looked. "2:37."

Darcy yawned again. "Mmkay. G'night," she said, rolling onto her other side.

"What do you think you're doing, woman?" Clint breathed into her ear. Darcy shivered.

"Sleeping." She mumbled.

Clint rolled her onto her back. "Not without a goodnight kiss," he said, leaning over her, the bump blocking him from fully lowering himself on top of her.

Darcy shivered again as he slid himself sinuously down her body, until his face was flush with her belly button. "Night, baby," he said, kissing her stomach. He slid back up until his face was inches from her. "Night, babe."

The kiss Clint gave her was the Princess Bride of kisses – it topped the top five kisses of all time. It was soft, and warm, and unbearably sweet. Darcy smiled into his lips and ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "Night, Green Arrow," she whispered, breaking the kiss.

In the dark, Darcy could make out the barest hint of a smile on Clint's face. He gently turned her back on her side. Darcy pulled one of his arms over her side, forcing him to spoon with her. He dropped another kiss between her shoulder blades, and then settled in behind her, one leg between hers, fingers tracing patterns on her stomach.

It was, quite possibly, the best sleep either one of them had ever gotten.


	7. Blue or Pink?

AN: So, as I re-read the previous chapters, I felt the need to clarify my timeline. It is:  
March: sexy sex  
April: New Mexico  
May: Tromso  
June: epic fight, debriefing  
July: Stark Tower  
August: Clint's return  
September: making nice

So Darcy is about 6 months along.

And SMUT SMUT SMUT yeah.

* * *

Darcy woke up hot. Not the kind of hot when you turn the heater up too high and have too many blankets and too much clothing; no, this was the kind of hot where your skin feels too tight and all the blood leaves your brain and moves…farther south.

To sum it up: Darcy woke up incredibly horny.

She levered herself up, trying to see the clock. It was something after 6 was the most she could make up. Clint lay next to her on his stomach, on arm thrown across her waist and the other across his eyes.

Darcy gently nudged his shoulder while taking in the muscles of his back. "Clint…" she whispered. No response.

So Darcy straddled his waist and ran her nails down his back. (What? She was _really _horny.) "Clint…" she sing-songed, a little louder.

He shifted under her and mumbled something. Darcy leaned down and nibbled on the junction of his neck and shoulder.

In a lightning fast move, he sat up, Darcy straddling his lap as he gripped her arms. "What're you doing?" he asked as sleep cleared from his eyes.

"Um…" Darcy said, trying not to rub up against his erection against her thigh. "Well, I had this dream…" she said, not meeting his gaze.

"And…?" he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

"And…you were doing this thing with your hands…"

"Like this?" he asked, tracing her spine from her shoulders to her ass.

Darcy wiggled, trying to alleviate the heat growing between her legs. "Not that…"

He kneaded her breasts through his shirt, flicking his thumbs across her already hard nipples. "What about like this?" he asked, his breath hot on her ear.

Darcy arched her back, pushing her breasts further into her hands as she moaned. "No…not quite…"

Clint slid his hands down her body until they were at the junction of her thighs. Instinctively knowing exactly where to touch, he caressed her clit through her shorts. "Like this?"

Darcy pushed him back down on the bed and smothered him with kisses. "Oh, yes," she sighed.

* * *

Clint never imagined that he was going to be woken up with morning sex when he went to bed last night. In fact, he hadn't even expected to wake up next to anyone, let alone a beautiful woman who wanted his hands on her body. But hey, he wasn't complaining.

He claimed Darcy's mouth with his own, nibbling on her lower lip. In retaliation, she ground her hips into his, fueling the morning wood he had into a full blown erection.

Clint had liked that about Darcy. She gave as good as she got with sex. So he stripped his shirt from her. Helping her briefly stand, the two of them managed to get both of their pants off.

In the hazy early morning light, Darcy's pale skin was bathed in a golden glow, making her look like something out of a fairy tale. Giving him a wicked smile that made his toes curl, she leaned down to take his nipples in her mouth.

Clint may not be a prince, but then again…Darcy was no damsel in distress. Their fairy tale might be a little fucked, but by God, it was a good fuck.

Clint reached back down between them, rolling her clit between her fingers. Darcy immediately jerked up. "Fuck me, Clint. Now." She cried impatiently, trying to get his cock in her.

"Far be it…for me…to argue with…the pregnant woman" he gasped out as Darcy slid herself onto him. As he sheathed himself in her wet heat, she gave a little moan. He watched, amazed, as Darcy lifted her riotous hair and arched her back. Reaching up, he gave her nipples a twist as she started to ride him.

It was hard, and it was fast, and it was glorious. Clint sucked and nibbled and stroked those glorious breasts as Darcy moved herself up and down with an unrelenting pace. And then she threw her head back and let out a feral moan that sent Clint's libido into overdrive. With a shudder, he climaxed, pulling himself up to wrap around her as they rode out their orgasms together.

* * *

Darcy rolled off of Clint and sprawled across the bed, one leg and an arm thrown across him. He looked at her and gave her a goofy grin. She giggled. "That was…nice." She said.

"Woman, that was fan-fucking-tastic. You are not allowed to sleep anywhere else because I fully expect to be woken up like that every day."

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. "Do you find it odd that we orgasm together?"

Clint thought about it for a moment. "No, not really. I just take it as a sign that we're doing something right," he said, giving her a shit-eating grin.

Darcy gave him a shove. "Whatever." Climbing over him, she crawled out of bed. "Baby on bladder means momma's gotta pee." She said as she walked over to the bathroom.

Darcy did her business, attempted to tame her hair, then walked back out into the bedroom wearing Clint's bathrobe. "Aw, you're no fun," he whined when he saw her covered state.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Clint wrapped his body around her. "So….what're you doing today?" she asked.

"Oh, I dunno. I'll probably spar with Tasha some, and I need to finish up some paperwork…"

Darcy knit her fingers together, suddenly nervous about what she wanted to ask him. "Would you…um..would you like to go to my doctor's appointment with me?"

Clint sat up, the sheet still covering him below the waist. "Your…baby doctor appointment?"

Darcy gave him a look. "Well, duh. I…um…am going to find out the gender today. I'd like you there."

Clint's face was impassive. "You don't know the gender?"

Darcy fiddled with a curl. "It just…didn't seem right, finding out without you there." She mumbled.

Clint's face broke into an ecstatic grin as he put one hand on her belly and pulled her in for a hug. "Yes, I would love to be there," he murmured into her hair.

* * *

Darcy did a walk of pride back to her suite of rooms. (She sure as hell wasn't _ashamed_ of having hot hot sex this morning.) She showered, and dressed in an oversized denim shirt and leggings. Curling up on her couch, she checked her email and the news on her tablet.

At 9:30, Clint knocked on her door. "Come in!" she yelled out, too comfy on the couch to get up. He snuck up behind her and jumped over the couch's back, landing next to her.

"You don't have to knock, ya know. You can just let yourself in." Darcy said, never looking up from her tablet.

Clint sat her boots on her coffee table with a thunk. "You forgot these."

Darcy sat her tablet down and leaned forward to put them on. "Yay! I was looking for these." She turned to Clint with a semi-serious expression. "Shoes run away from me."

She watched Clint out of the corner of her eye as he watched her put her boots on. He swallowed. "I find the sight of you in those boots ridiculously attractive, and I keep picturing you wearing nothing but them." Darcy looked at him, incredulous. "What?" he asked. "I'm just being honest."

Darcy laughed. "Okay, thanks. I bought them because they reminded me of you." At his incredulous look, Darcy added, "Just keeping the honesty ball rolling." She glanced at her watch. "C'mon, help me up. It's time to go."

Clint stood up and pulled Darcy to her feet. She grabbed her bag and keys, and they left the Tower.

* * *

Clint was nervous – and he never got nervous. But here he was, going with Darcy to her doctor's appointment. They were sitting in the waiting room. Darcy had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and Clint sat there nervously flipping through an old issue of some parenting magazine.

Another guy sat down next to him. "First one?" he asked, giving Clint a sympathetic smile.

"Uh..yeah." Clint stuttered out. "That obvious?"

The other man laughed. "It's okay. We're on baby number three, and I'm still a wreck every time." The two men sat there, chatting, until Darcy came back to Clint.

"It's our turn."

Clint stood up and shook hands with the other guy. "It was nice talking to you." He turned to Darcy, and she led the way back to the examining room.

Darcy changed into the gown behind a screen while Clint averted his eyes. She lied down on the examining table, and Clint sat in a chair by her shoulders. The doctor came in, and looked at some things (Clint was glad the doctor was a woman, otherwise that would've been uncomfortable, to say the least).

Finally, she uncovered Darcy's stomach. Darcy gasped as the doctor spread some goo over her. Clint immediately turned to her, worried. "It's cold." She said with a giggle.

Suddenly, a grainy image appeared on the screen in front of them. Clint could make out a head and shoulders and impossibly tiny little hands. He reached for Darcy's hand, and she intertwined her fingers with his as they shared a look. _Wow, _Clint thought, _there really is a little person in there._

"Well, do you want to know the gender yet, Miss Lewis?" the doctor asked.

Darcy looked at Clint, unsure. He nodded in support. "Yes, please," she answered, her voice shaking.

Darcy clutched at Clint's fingers as the doctor moved the wand, examining the image on the screen. "Well…there's nothing there…" she said. Clint's brow furrowed as Darcy took on a pained expression. Was there something wrong with their baby? "What do you mean?" he managed to get out.

The doctor turned to him and gave him a smile. "Well…if you wanted to paint the nursery pink, it would probably be okay," the doctor said as she stood up. "With that, you're free to go."

Clint turned to Darcy and kissed her. "We're having a baby girl," he said, grinning like a fool.

"Damnit," Darcy grumbled. "I only had a boy named picked out."

* * *

Clint insisted on going into a baby store after they left the doctor's office and had an early lunch. Darcy unwillingly relented, and the two ended up going a little crazy. By the time they had left, they had a full wardrobe for the baby, as well as blankets and diapers and formula and a giant stuffed dog that Clint was already calling Nana.

The two made it back to Stark Tower, and Darcy laid down for a nap. Clint went down to the gym to spar with Natasha.

Within two minutes, she had him on the ground. It hurt like a motherfucker, but Clint was too busy grinning to really be upset.

"Barton, are you high?" Nat asked him.

"Nope." He said, making the 'p' sound pop. "Just really happy. Really really really happy." Natasha raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. "We're having a girl. A baby girl." He crowed, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

Natasha helped him up and gave him a rare smile. "Congrats, Clint." She said, giving him a pat on the shoulder, which was a bear hug in Nat-speak.

Clint managed to keep his head together long enough to get a decent sparring session in, even if she did pin him more times than normal. He showered and was looking at the ultrasound pictures when JARVIS spoke.

"Agent Barton, Miss Lewis has awoken. You did ask me to inform you when this happened," the clipped British voice said.

"Thanks, JARVIS," he tossed towards the ceiling.

* * *

Darcy had just woken up when Tony's voice came over her headset. "Yo, Lewis. Get your fat ass out of bed and come down to the lab."

"I'm not fat," Darcy grumbled. "I'm pregnant."

"Semantics." Tony said into her ear.

"Fuck you," was her witty response.

"I'm pretty sure that's how you got in that condition." Tony said. Darcy could just hear the smirk in the voice. After running a brush through her hair, she wrapped her scarf back around her neck, put her boots on, and went to leave.

When she opened her door, Clint was on the other side. "Oh, hey. Stark wants me in the lab." She said by way of greeting. "You coming?"

* * *

The two stepped into Tony's lab, and a cry of "Congratulations!" met their ears. A banner that said "It's a girl!" had been strung between Dum-E and Butterfingers. There was cake on one of the lab tables, and all of the Avengers, plus Pepper, Jane, Erik, and Coulson had gathered around it.

Darcy clapped her hands to her mouth in surprise. Tearing up, she asked, "How did you know?"

Tony pointed to Clint. "Your boyfriend over there can't really keep a secret."

Darcy turned to look at him, slightly exasperated, but with a fond smile. It was cute how excited Clint was about having a girl. "Okay, give me that cake." Darcy said with a laugh as her family came in to hug her.

They all ate cake, and everyone had some sort of gift to give Darcy. Pepper gave Darcy the softest sweater in a beautiful silvery-gray. Jane and Erik had gone together and gotten them a Diaper Genie (whatever that was). Bruce gave them a beautiful baby sling made of some gorgeous Indian sari fabric. Tony promised them that he was building them a nanny-bot (which scared Darcy a little bit). Steve gave them a gorgeous drawing of Clint kissing her belly that Darcy was going to frame and put in her bedroom. Coulson whispered something in Clint's ear, and Clint grinned and shook his hand. Darcy didn't know how that qualified as a gift, but she assumed she would find out later.

But Thor's gift was the most beautiful of all. He had carved them an intricate crib that looked as if it grew out of the ground – perfectly matching her Neverland nursery. Everyone gasped over the detailed carvings and the rich, ebony finish. Darcy couldn't stop tracing the whorls in the branches that made up the legs. "For you, little lightning sister," he said, wrapping Darcy in a gentle hug. The baby then kicked Thor, and he spent a good five minutes cooing at her belly. Darcy giggled, taking in the sight of the giant Norse god reduced to baby talk at her waist. Over his head, she and Jane shared a smile.

And that was how Darcy Lewis had her baby shower in a grease-monkey-genius's lab.


	8. Battlefield Blues

A month passed after Darcy's impromptu baby shower – a month of weight gain and midnight ice cream and filing paperwork and waking up to Clint in her bed (or her in his). Clint and Darcy had finally reached some sort of functioning relationship; they spent most of their time together, were affectionate without being clingy, and occasionally (okay, fine, often) reached orgasm together.

However, the bubble had to be popped eventually. Coulson caught Clint in a hallway at SHIELD. "I'm letting you know first…" he said. "We need the team to check out rumors of Frost Giants in Greenland. You leave tonight."

Clint gaped at Coulson. "But- Darce-"

Coulson gave him a sad smile. "Darcy has eight weeks left. I assure you, you will be gone and back within a week. She won't go into labor while you're gone."

Coulson may be all-powerful, but even he can't control everything…

* * *

Clint was cold. The team had spent the last four days trekking through Greenland, trying to find fucking Frost Giants, of all things. He was pretty sure his balls were frozen solid. He couldn't imagine how Cap felt.

They had returned to the Quinjet, admitting defeat – or at least a false lead. Clint was dozing under a bundle of blankets when JARVIS's voice cut through the plane.

"Sir?" He said politely. "The power to the Tower seems to have been cut off."

* * *

Darcy was not having a good day. Her boyfriend was out on a super secret mission, her boss had forbidden her from coming into the office so she was stuck in the lab, and her back was killing her. So she was sitting on the couch in the lab, googling baby names, when the power was cut off. Jane had gone to Bruce's lab to find some article (she wouldn't let Darcy do anything) and Erik was at the university today. So Darcy was in the lab by herself when it was plunged into darkness.

She immediately went into action. Pulling her Stark-modified Taser out of her bag, she crept behind a lab table, trying to hide herself and find anything that could be used as a weapon. Somehow, in the dark and between epic back cramps, Darcy managed to build a small arsenal of Molotov cocktails. (Good to know her juvie days weren't wasted.)

A man in black came through the door and did a sweep of the room. Darcy, using the baseball aim her dad had taught her, pegged him with a flaming beaker, then Tased him. She efficiently bound him with electrical tape and stripped him of his gun.

She was checking the magazine when her water broke.

* * *

Clint was frantic when he heard the Tower was being infiltrated by Hand operatives. Darcy, who was so pregnant she couldn't bend over to tie her shoes, was in there and he wasn't there to protect her. In fact, no one was there to protect her.

"Okay, we need a game plan," Cap said in his most authoritative voice. "Stark, you and Thor come in via the roof. We'll drop you off. You guys try to stop any operatives. Natasha, you and I will come in through the basement. We'll try to get people out. Bruce, you and Clint will start in the middle, sweeping for Hand operatives as well. Break a window if you have to."

Clint nodded his agreement. As the Quinjet started to lower, Steve clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. "Darcy will be okay. We'll make sure of it."

* * *

Darcy had been timing her contractions – they were roughly fifteen minutes apart. She had been lucky so far; all the men entering the lab had come in between contractions. Darcy, without thinking, threw Molotov cocktails and shot her attackers. She was pretty sure she hadn't killed anyone, but she was in too much pain to really care.

Coulson's voice came over her headset. "Lewis, what's your status?" he asked.

"I'm in Jane's lab. So far, I have five downed operatives, all bound and unconscious."

"Good. Head for the basement levels. An agent will meet you on the floor below yours."

"Negative, Ghost Rider."

"Lewis, that was a direct order!" Darcy could hear the beginning of worry in Coulson's voice.

"Can't, Son of Coul."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm –" Darcy screamed as another contraction passed through her body. "- in labor" she finished after it had passed, glancing at her watch. Ten minutes apart.

"Be there in five," was Coulson's quick response.

* * *

Clint's comm connected to those of the agents in the Tower right as Darcy screamed. Everyone in the Quinjet winced at the pain you could hear in her voice.

They went quiet as they heard Darcy's words. Everyone turned to look at Clint. "New plan," he said, face stoic. "I get to Darcy."

The next thing he knew, he was swinging through a window a floor above Jane's lab. Mercilessly, he shot and stabbed his way through a group of Hand operatives trying to hack into Tony's hard drive. He sprinted down the hallway and the stairs until he got to the lab.

A flaming beaker came flying at his head. Luckily, he ducked in time, but it narrowly missed him. "Darcy! Darcy!" he yelled.

"Clint?" came her shaky voice from behind an overturned lab table.

He ran around two bound Hand members and squatted by her side. Darcy instantly grabbed the front of his uniform as another contraction ripped through her. "Fuck!" she screamed, as he helplessly watched her.

The contraction passed, and Coulson suddenly appeared. "My contractions are getting closer together," Darcy panted out, still with a white-knuckled grip on Clint's vest.

Coulson suddenly appeared. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over Darcy's lap. Rolling up his sleeves, he asked, "How far apart?"

Darcy glanced at her watch. "8 minutes."

Clint suddenly snapped out of his daze. "What do we need to do?"

Coulson pointed at Darcy's legs. "Let's get her undressed and deliver this baby." Clint efficiently stripped off Darcy's boots and leggings, as well as his quiver and outer vest. Using his vest as a pillow, he and Coulson arranged Darcy where she would be hidden from the line of sight of the door. Clint took up a position by Darcy's head, gun in one hand and hers in the other, and watched the door. Coulson kneeled between Darcy's legs.

Another contraction ripped through Darcy, and she screamed again. Hearing the noise, two Hand agents came through the door. Clint efficiently took them out as Darcy had a death grip on his other hand.

Coulson looked at her apologetically as the contraction passed. "Six minutes. Darcy, honey, we need you to be quiet."

"Well fuck me for having a baby trying to come through my uterus. It's a little fucking painful." She snapped out.

Clint took off his wrist guard. "Here," he said, passing it to Darcy. "Bite on this."

Darcy took it from him gingerly. "I guess if Fa Mulan can give birth in battle, so can I."

Clint wiped sweat from her forehead as Darcy put his wrist guard in her mouth. "Shh, baby. It'll be okay," he whispered in her hair.

* * *

Clint had no idea how much time had passed. Several more contractions had gone through Darcy, but Coulson still wasn't letting her push. Something about not being dilated enough. He murmured soothing words to Darcy, but he could tell that she wanted to scream obscenities. Her knuckles were white where they were grasped around the legs of the lab table.

Finally, Coulson let her push. With a grunt, Darcy sat up. Clint watched as Coulson coached her through her pushes, and finally…the baby was born.

She was so tiny, to Clint's eyes. Blond curls were plastered to her head, and it was obvious that she was going to have Darcy's lips. Clint handed over his knife, and Coulson cut the umbilical cord and wrapped up the baby – their daughter – in his suit jacket.

As Darcy took the baby to nurse her, Clint and Coulson started moving the downed Hand agents. Tony's voice came over the comm system. "And that's all folks!" Evidently, the battle was over.

A man appeared in the doorway, dressed in black, gun outstretched. As the men were reaching for their weapons, three short pops went off.

Clint turned around. There stood Darcy, baby at her breast and 9 mm in her hand. God, he loved that woman.

"Now, that's all," she said with a satisfied smile.

* * *

A few hours later, Darcy was safely ensconced in her bed. She refused to go to SHIELD's medical bay, citing that she had a fully trained doctor and a team of superheroes on hand if anything went awry. The baby had been checked out by a neo-natal team, and had been deemed strong enough to handle not being in an incubator. The baby was in now in Darcy's arms, nursing again. Darcy ran a gently finger through her blond curls – the perfect blend of her and Clint's hair.

Clint snuck in and sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey," he whispered, playing with the baby's toes. "How you feeling?"

Darcy gave him a tired smile. "Like I've been run over by a freight train, and fully enjoyed it." They both watched their daughter for a moment.

"She has your lips." Clint said, smiling.

"Better that than my skin tone." Darcy said with a laugh.

"So…what're we going to name her?" Clint asked.

"I was thinking…Blair Natasha Barton."

"Blair?" Clint asked.

"It means 'battlefield,' which would be appropriate, considering the circumstances of her birth."

"Blair Barton. I like it," he said. "Hiya Miss Blair," he cooed at the baby.

Darcy smiled as baby Blair reached out and wrapped her tiny fingers around Clint's callused one. As the baby finished eating, there was a quiet knock at her door. Clint unwrapped Blair's fingers and went to answer it.

Darcy smiled as she watched everyone pour into her suite of rooms. Covering herself back up, she sat up higher in the bed.

Steve came in first, and he helped her fluff her pillows into a more comfortable position. Smiling at Darcy, he also played with Blair's toes. "She's beautiful…just like her mama," he told her.

Next were Thor and Jane. Thor boomed out a greeting, and Blair started crying. Darcy shushed the baby as Jane shushed Thor. He immediately lowered the volume of his voice, and Blair quieted down as well.

Bruce watched from the end of the bed. "I'm still a little green," he said by way of explanation. "I don't want to scare her."

Tony came in and leaned over Darcy, staring at the baby. "She's kinda wrinkly." He said, making a face. "I thought babies were supposed to be cute." Pepper smacked him on the back of the head. "But mama looks gorgeous. Total MILF material." He added in lieu of an apology. Clint growled at him as Darcy laughed.

"What's…a milf?" Steve asked. Bruce leaned over and quietly explained it in his ear, and Steve turned bright red.

Natasha was the last one in. "Coulson had to go manage the cleanup crews," she said. "He said not to worry about his jacket." She came and stood by Darcy. "So did you decide on a name?"

Darcy smiled at Natasha. "Meet Blair Natasha Barton." Darcy watched as tears welled up in Natasha's eyes. (It was more emotion than Darcy had ever seen out of her t any given time, combined.) Darcy held up the baby. "Would you like to hold her?"

Natasha eagerly took Blair, and the rest of the Avengers crowded around her to marvel at the newest addition to their family. Clint came and slid in behind Darcy, pillowing her back against his chest. "What're you doing?" Darcy asked.

"I figured someone had to pay attention to you, since everyone is gaga about Blair," he said, nuzzling her neck.

Darcy tried to hide her yawn. "Thanks babe," she murmured as she snuggled into his arms.

Steve noticed her yawn. "Okay guys, maybe we should let the new parents rest," he said, his voice taking on a bit of a Cap tone. Natasha passed Blair back to Darcy, the disappointment obvious on her face, and everyone filed out, leaving the new family alone.

Darcy tried to pass Blair to Clint. "Here, you take her. I need to shower."

Clint held up his hands, a slightly scared look on his face. "I don't know how!" he said.

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Well, you gotta learn sometime. Crook your arm," she instructed, showing him how her arm was bent. "Just make sure that her neck is fully supported. If she gets fussy, just lay her against her shoulder and try to burp her."

Clint gently took the baby. Darcy smiled as she watched his expression go from scared to delighted at the tiny wonder in his hands.

* * *

Darcy stood in the shower, letting the hot water work out all the new kinks in her back. She laughed, excited that she could see her feet again. After cleaning up and washing her hair, she stepped out. She quickly dried off, combed her hair, and pulled it into a loose braid. She shrugged into one of Clint's button down shirts, not bothering to put anything else on.

When Darcy walked back into her bedroom, Clint was bouncing Blair and singing to her. Evidently, he had pressed play on Darcy's iPod while she was in the shower. Ironically enough, John Mayer's "Daughters" was playing, and Clint was singing along. Darcy was surprised to hear how good of a singing voice Clint had. It was smoky and sounded like something you'd hear out of a jazz club. Darcy leaned against the door frame, watching the archer-assassin sing to the little blonde bundle in his arms.

Darcy couldn't help it; she fell even deeper in love with the man in front of her.

She snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around Clint. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Feel better?"

She sighed. "Yeah. I didn't know you could sing!" she exclaimed, coming around to stand beside Clint.

He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. "I didn't know you knew how to make Molotov cocktails. Or handle a gun." he said.

Darcy shrugged. "I have a rather varied juvie history. Luckily, it's all sealed. Oh look, she's finally asleep."

Clint laid Blair down in the bassinet. He turned back to Darcy, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have a juvie record?"

Darcy gave him a cheeky grin. "I...might have boosted a few cars back in my day. Maybe."

Clint shook his head as he walked over to her. "What am I going to do with you?"

Darcy wrapped her arms around his waist. "You're one to talk, Mr. Former-Carney-and-Circus-Performer."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Hey! It was a legitimate career."

Darcy gave a short laugh. "So is being a spokesmodel for a arms dealer." At Clint's strangled laugh, she added "I mean...so I've heard."

He kissed her on the temple. "You're a mess." He led her to the bed. "Let's get some sleep before the munchkin wakes up."


	9. Return to Espionage

Apparently, standing up and shooting someone immediately after giving birth is a bad idea for your body. For the four weeks after giving birth to Blair, Darcy was put on bed rest – which was harder on her than going into labor in the middle of a firefight. So she slept, and fed the baby, and slept more, and derped on Tumblr. Surprisingly, Clint was there every time she woke up.

"Don't you have to be at work?" Darcy asked one afternoon on her last week of bedrest.

"Nope. Coulson gave me paternity leave for as long as you're on maternity leave. It was his baby shower gift to us. Oh, that and he's going to start training me as a handler so I'm in the field less." Clint said neutrally, as if he was talking about the grocery list and not his livelihood.

"Um…wow. Okay. Yeah, that was really nice of him." Darcy said as she stretched. _Is Clint actually willing to give up being a spy for me? _

Blair snuffled, and Darcy started to get out of bed to get her. Clint flapped his hands at her, saying, "Bedrest, woman! In the bed!" Picking up Blair, he brought her over to Darcy and then went to heat up a bottle.

Blair had become a little blonde butterball in the month she'd been on this earth. She was a content baby, and was always watching, trying to see as much of her new world as she could. Darcy liked to tell Blair about her Uncles Steve, Thor, Erik, Tony, Phil, and Bruce and her Aunts Tasha, Jane and Pepper. She told her stories of how Mommy tased Uncle Thor and how Auntie Jane makes rainbow bridges.

Darcy swore that Blair understood everything.

* * *

They got the baby fed, and she convinced Clint to let her go hang out in the lab. Darcy wrapped Blair up like a papoose in the sari sling Bruce had given her, with just a glimpse of her golden curls showing. Slowly, Clint helped her down to the lab and helped her get settled on the ratty old couch they kept in there from their New Mexico days.

Erik held Blair, bouncing her and talking about astrophysics. Clint left Darcy and Jane to girl talk, saying he needed to get in a sparring session. Jane squeezed Darcy's knee. "So how are you doing, sweetie?"

Darcy sighed and sunk deeper into the couch. "It's all a little overwhelming, ya know? Like, I though I would have more time to prepare and then bam! She's here." Darcy kept one eye trained on Erik and Blair at the whiteboard. "I can barely take care of myself, Jane," she whispered, almost afraid to vocalize her fears. "What if I screw her up?"

"Bullshit." Jane said succinctly. "You manage to feed, water, and care for all of us in the Tower, and we are all independent adults with full vocabularies. I'm sure you can manage a baby."

Darcy laughed as a tear slid down her cheek. "You're right, Jane. If I can corral you crazies, surely I can handle a baby."

Jane fake punched her on the arm. "That's the spirit, Lewis. Now, do you know where I can find my notes for the Telluran-Rosen portal mockup?"

* * *

Darcy officially went back to work on November 1. Her first day back, she made sure to look super-professional, to mark her transition into SERIOUS ADULT. However, it'd been so long since she'd worn heels that she cheated a little, and wore her cleanest pair of Converse instead. (She wasn't _that _much of an adult.) Surprisingly, SHIELD had a nursery (which made her equal parts assured of her daughter's safety and freaked out about the number of weapons in proximity to her baby), so Darcy was able to drop Blair off in the morning on her way to Coulson's office.

When she got there, a large bouquet of yellow roses (her favorite!) were sitting on the corner of her desk. Stowing her purse in a drawer, she yanked the card out of the vase. _Welcome Back! PC_

The man who signed the note walked in as she finished reading it. "Thanks Son of Coul! These are beautiful."

"You're welcome Miss Lewis. It's good to have you back." He said with a brief smile.

"Did the temp mess up your files again?" Darcy asked with a knowing look. Coulson just pointed at the mess of forms in her inbox. "Jesus Christ on a cracker." Darcy swore under her breath.

As Coulson went into his office, Darcy called out. "Hey, thanks for doing all that for Clint. I appreciate it."

Coulson turned around to lean against the door frame. "I had been suggesting it for some time before…" he trailed off. "Your pregnancy just helped expedite the process."

"So it wasn't his idea?" Darcy asked with a resigned droop to her shoulders.

"Not originally, but he wasn't adverse to my suggestion."

As Darcy did paperwork, she mulled over Clint's change in career trajectory. Not going to lie, she was a little glad Clint was getting out of the field. But…was he? Though their relationship had progressed some, Darcy didn't think that he was willing to give up espionage hijinks…at least, not for her. And either way, he'd still be in some danger, seeing as how he was an Avenger.

Darcy had always sworn to herself that she would never be one of those girls who gave ultimatums to their significant others. It just seemed to guarantee a breakup, in her limited experience. So she wasn't going to make Clint choose between her and the job. If he wanted both, he could have both.

Darcy snorted at herself. _We'll see if you're still telling yourself that the first time he comes home battered from a mission._

Oh well…Clint's future was his own decision, and worrying about it wasn't going to get these forms filed.

* * *

At lunch, Darcy snuck down to the nursery and hung out with Blair. She was glad to be back at SHIELD, but Darcy didn't know if she could handle to busy-ness of the cafeteria quite yet. The agent in charge pointed her to a rocker, and Darcy held Blair and ate a granola bar, relaxing into the relative quiet of the as she nursed Blair. Other than Blair, there were two other babies, and four toddlers. By the time Darcy got there, it was nap time, so it was relatively peaceful.

Steve poked his head in about ten minutes after she got there. "Hey, Darcy, Agent Coulson said you might be here. Would you like to get some lunch with me?" he said quietly.

Darcy pointed at her blanket-covered shoulder. "I'm afraid it is lunchtime…just not for me." Darcy said with a soft laugh. She waved her granola bar. "Thanks, Steve, but I'm good for now."

He blushed at the implied nakedness involved in breastfeeding. "Would you like some company?" he asked shyly.

"Yes, please," Darcy said, motioning to the other rocker. He pulled it up next to hers, and they sat there in silence for a minute. "Steve? Can I ask you a hypothetical question?" Darcy eventually asked.

"Shoot."

"If your girlfriend-slash-wife asked you to give up fieldwork for her, would you?"

Steve gave her a long look. "If she asked, yes. I can't say I would be entirely happy, but I would at least try for her."

Darcy sighed, stroking Blair's toes. "That's what I'm afraid of. But Steve?" she said, reaching for his hand. "I hope that whoever you end up with understands that you don't fight for the rush; that you do it because you are a good man who protects what is his, including both her and the safety of this country."

He squeezed her fingers. "Thanks, Darce. I'm assuming that this is about Barton?"

Darcy shifted Blair and buttoned her shirt. As she burped the baby, she said, "Partly. Coulson had actually already started shifting him towards handling before…before any of this, any of _us_, ever happened. But I think Clint only went along with it because he thinks it'll make me happy."

"Will it?" Steve asked sagely.

"Yes and no." Darcy said, her emotions in turmoil. "On one hand, every time he goes out into the field, I'll be a nervous wreck until he comes home to us. On the other, I feel that Clint has to make that decision for himself. If I force him to a desk, I'm afraid he'll resent me for it."

"Darcy, I think Barton would do anything to make you happy. Or, at least, that's the attitude he should have towards you."

"I don't want that, Steve!" Darcy said heatedly. At his shocked look, she explained. "My father would've done – and did do – anything to make mother happy. He wanted to be a carpenter, but he got recruited to play minor league baseball. My mother wanted to be a trophy wife, so she pushed him to try and go pro, and he did it for her. Six months into his pro career, the stress of it all caused him to blow out his knee, and he was never able to play again. My mom eventually left him because she couldn't be a sports wife, which is ironic considering that it's indirectly her fault that all that happened. He became bitter and for the rest of his life, he blamed everything bad that happened on that singular decision to go pro for my mother. I don't want that to be Clint and I, Steve." She took a shuddery breath.

"Darcy, we are not our parents. If we were, most of us would probably be supervillains, not superheroes."

Darcy gave that a shaky laugh. "Thanks, Steve." She put Blair in the nearest empty crib, and then linked arms with him. "And now back to work!"

* * *

Darcy was pulling overtime, trying to reorganize Coulson's office after the disaster of a temp, so she texted Clint. _Are you at SHIELD?_

C: _Ya what's up_

D: _Shitty temp, so I'm working OT. Pick up Blair?_

C: _Sure thing. When will you be home?_

D: _Dunno. Late._

C: _K_

Around 8 o'clock, Darcy took a break, eating leftover Thai food from the break room fridge. She'd made significant progress, but still had at least an hour's worth of work left. She gave herself a half hour to eat, then went back to Coulson's office. Just as she was going to start sorting forms again, her tablet dinged, signifying a new email. Curious, she opened.

Inside was a series of photos that almost made Darcy's heart stop. Somehow, someone had photographed her and Steve together. There were quite a few: some from the Stark gala eons ago, where they had danced together; a few of Steve carrying her groceries; one of Steve carrying her up to her suite the day Blair was born; and even some of their lunch break in the nursery today.

The message with the photos was simple: _Either you cooperate, or you and the Captain's beautiful baby will suffer. Be at the coffee shop across the street in 15 minutes._

Someone had gotten the wrong impression, but Darcy wasn't about to put her baby in danger because of that. Frantically, she grabbed her bag and sprinted out of SHIELD.

* * *

She made it to the coffee shop with a few minutes to spare. She ordered a mug of tea, and sat at a back booth, trying to calm her heart. She took a tentative sip of her tea.

A man in sunglasses slid in the booth across from her. "Miss Lewis?" he asked.

"Depends on who's asking." Darcy snarked.

The man remained impassive. "I represent an interested third party. They have a proposal for you." He said, sliding a folder across the table.

Darcy opened it and read through the sheet of paper inside. In exchange for her daughter's guaranteed safety, Darcy had to given certain, currently unnamed, parties access to the members of the Avengers Initiative.

Darcy immediately thought about Senator Brackenthorn and his attempts to use them as part of his political campaign. When Darcy first started as their liaison, he had intently pursued them, but here recently he had backed off. Darcy had thought he had finally gotten the hint, but maybe he had just regrouped and come at the problem (namely, her) from a different angle.

But Darcy didn't have any proof that he was behind this "offer," so she simply closed the folder and steepled her fingers over it. "Let your…employer know that I will consider his offer. As a token of good faith, I expect my daughter to remain unharmed until he makes his move to contact the Avengers. If this happens, I will allow access."

The man nodded and took the folder back from her. "I will pass on your message."

He left, and Darcy slumped back in her chair. After a few moments calming her heart rate, she dug out her phone. Punching in a number, she waited patiently for the other end to answer.

"Logan? I need to get off the grid."

* * *

Clint woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a baby crying. Stumbling to the nursery, he picked up Blair, and then went into the kitchen to make her a bottle. As he fed her, the haze of sleep cleared and he started to notice that Darcy's stuff wasn't in its normal place. There were no heels discarded by the front door, her jacket wasn't slung over the back of the couch, her purse wasn't tossed on the counter. Glancing into the bedroom, he saw that the clothes she had worn yesterday weren't thrown across the floor. Carrying Blair, he peeked into the bathroom. "Darce?"

It was empty too. Maybe she had fallen asleep at her desk at SHIELD? It had happened once before, so Clint grabbed his phone off the nightstand and called her.

Oddly enough, her phone went straight to voicemail. Clint left her a brief message, and then he and Blair wandered into the main kitchen, looking for his teammates.

He asked everyone, and no one had seen her. Packing up a diaper bag, he went to SHIELD. Skipping the nursery, he went straight to Coulson's office.

His former handler was sitting at his desk on the phone when Clint came in, but Darcy's desk was oddly empty. Sprawling on the couch, he nestled Blair in the crook of his neck and waited for Coulson to end his conversation.

"Agent Barton, what can I do for you?"

"Have you seen Darcy? I don't think she came home last night."

Coulson gave Clint an odd look, then shook his head. "She was still here filing when I left at 1800 yesterday, but wasn't here when I came in. Do you think something is wrong?"

Clint tilted his head. It could just be a series of coincidences – her phone died, she was napping in a break room somewhere – but his gut was telling him something bad was going on. "I honestly don't know." Blair started to fuss, picking up the tension in Clint's body. He stood and paced Coulson's office, bouncing her and trying to relax.

"Have you tried tracing her cell phone?" Coulson asked, pulling up programs on his computer as Clint shook his head. The two men stared at the screen as a box popped up, telling them that cell number was currently unavailable.

They turned and looked at each other. "Maybe we should inform the team." Coulson said neutrally.

* * *

Clint paced the meeting room in the Tower, trying to calm the now-fussy Blair as his teammates trickled in. Once the team and Jane had sat down, Clint stated, without preamble, "Darcy is missing."

Everyone started talking at once, and it was chaos. Blair started screaming, so everyone quieted down as Clint tried to calm her. Once there was relative silence, Coulson started to speak. "Agent Barton and I tried to trace her cell, but –" he stopped as everyone's phones chimed at once.

Apparently, Darcy had sent a mass text. _Family emergency. Be back soon._

Clint's shoulders relaxed a bit, but he still didn't feel as if he had the whole picture. "I guess we now know what's going on." He said.

"I don't think so." Steve said quietly. As everyone turned to look at him, his face became serious. "Darcy doesn't have any family living that she still speaks to. So I don't think it was a family emergency."

Clint stared at Cap, dumbfounded. How did he know that when Clint didn't?

Coulson, however, immediately started giving assignments. "Natasha, please try to triangulate Darcy's cell again. Stark, see if you can get into her email, anything that will give us an idea of what made her bolt. Barton, was there anything missing from her suite this morning?"

"Just her purse."

"What the fuck is this?" Tony interjected. Swiping his tablet screen, he put Darcy's email account on the overhead screen. Stark opened up an email, and photos of Steve and Darcy filled the screen.

"That- that's at SHIELD! Yesterday!" Cap said, pointing at the last photo of him and Darcy, sitting in rocking chairs and holding hands.

Clint turned on him, his rage running ice cold through his veins. "Cap, is there something you'd like to tell me? Anything going on between you and Darcy that I should know about?"

"Look, Barton, Darcy and I are just friends. That," he said, pointing at the screen, "is not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?" Clint asked.

Steve sighed. "I can't tell you about the conversation, but Darcy had asked me a question that had..not upset me, but made me a little sad. So she squeezed my hand. Strictly platonic."

"Well, someone didn't get that memo." Tony said, breaking up their conversation. "Look at this." The message attached to the photos flashed across the screen.

As he read the message, Clint unconsciously tightened his grip on Blair until she made a noise in protest. Loosening his grip, he tuned out his team's discussion to focus on the baby in his arms. Darcy had disappeared to protect their daughter, he was sure of it. Interrupting the discussion, he said, "I'm going to do another sweep of the suite."

He could hear the team following him as he walked through the Tower. Natasha took Blair, holding her while he prowled around Darcy's rooms. Her purse was missing, obviously, but he looked for other things as well. A small blanket of Blair's wasn't in the crib. Her toothbrush wasn't in the holder in the bathroom. Her combat boots weren't anywhere to be found.

Rubbing his collarbone, Clint realized he hadn't put his dog tags on. He looked on and in both of the nightstands and in the bathroom, but he couldn't find them. Had Darcy taken them too?

He hoped he had, that way, she would have a piece of him, wherever she was.

* * *

AN: SORRY ABOUT ALL THE ANGST. I COULDN'T STOP IT.


	10. Book Cipher

The first postcard arrived a week after Darcy disappeared. It was of the sand dunes in New Mexico. Addressed to Clint, it had a quote on it, followed by a series of numbers.

_The wind began to blow again. It was the levanter, the wind that came from Africa. It didn't bring with it the smell of the desert, nor the threat of Moorish invasion. Instead, it brought the scent of a perfume he knew well, and the touch of a kiss – a kiss that came from far away, slowly, slowly, until it rested on his lips._

_55:67 96:137 96:138 5:41 67:12 114:201_

There was no signature, no initial, nothing on the flimsy piece of paper to suggest an identity to the sender. However, the quote was reminiscent of something Clint remembered telling Darcy months ago – of how her perfume seemed to follow him around on the wind as he went on that fateful mission. (Was it forever ago? Or was it just a few months?)

Clint couldn't figure out the numbers, so he stuck the postcard on the fridge. Every time he went back to get a beer or a bottle for Blair, he traced the edges of the postcard, worrying about Darcy. That night, Natasha came over to make sure he wasn't drowning his sorrows in cheap tequila.

(He wasn't. He'd done enough of that on a beach in Mexico and damnit, he was responsible for another person now. Two other persons, if he was honest with himself, even if one of them wouldn't accept his help.)

She went to the fridge to get a bottle for Blair, the baby fussing in her arms. "Where is this from?" she asked, gesturing to the postcard.

Clint shrugged as he took a drink of his beer. "Dunno. I think it's from Darcy," he said, his voice catching on her name. "But don't ask me how I know that," he finished once he got his emotions under control.

Natasha removed the postcard from behind the magnet and flipped it over. Glancing at the numbers, she smacked Clint on the back of the head as she passed by him. "Darcy is giving you a clue, dumbass. JARVIS, can you get the team together in here?"

Within a few minutes, the team was gathered in Darcy's suite. Natasha, who had passed Blair back to Clint, stood in front of the TV in the living room. "Darcy has given us a clue. Who knows codes?" she asked, tapping the bottom of the postcard.

"I can write an algorithm for most code-breakers." Tony said.

"Okay, who knows their literature?" At everyone's blank looks, Natasha elaborated. "It's a book cipher. Darcy gave us a quote, now we just have to find the book it's from." She read the quote out loud.

"Oh, oh…I know this one!" Bruce exclaimed. "It's…" he jumped up and walked over to Darcy's bookshelf. Running his fingers over the spines, he finally found the one he wanted and pulled it from the shelf.

"JARVIS, extrapolate the information from that novel and cross reference it with these coordinates," Tony said before he started reading off the numbers on the postcard.

Clint watched in awe as his team jumped into action, solving Darcy's little clues that he had been too dense to see. Steve came over and put a large hand on Clint's shoulder. "We'll get her back."

Clint gave a bleak laugh. "Last time you said that, Darcy went into labor during a ninja attack."

Steve gave him a wry smile. "And look how that turned out."

Clint smiled down at the cooing baby in his arms. "Yeah, I guess it was alright," he said grudgingly.

"Darcy once told me that we were the best family she'd ever had. And family looks after their own." Steve said quietly.

"Can you tell me about her?" Clint asked suddenly. "I- I feel like you know her better than I do sometimes."

Just as Steve opened his mouth to respond, Tony yelled out, "Got it! Got it! The message is: 'don't try to find me yet.'"

Clint took hope at that silly little preposition. There was still a chance for a rescue.

* * *

Under the cover of darkness, Darcy and Logan broke into an impound yard. With a quiet snick!, Logan's claws cut through the padlock on the gate. Silently, they crept through the yard, trying to find an inconspicuous vehicle that would last long enough to get her to the next point.

Darcy finally found a beige colored, newer-model Impala. Picking the lock, she then leaned down and hotwired the car. "Hop in, cowboy," she said with a tired half-grin towards Logan. "Mama's still got the touch."

For the last 8 days, Darcy had been underground and off the grid: cash-basis only, multiple fake IDs, roachfest motels, no electronics save her iPod and borrowed cars. She'd hustled pool to keep her cash flowing, even winning a hundred bucks of a cute set of brothers in a backwater bar. After 5 days on the road, she bought a go phone and started to make contact with some of her…acquaintances from her days in juvie.

Her first six attempts had all run into a brick wall, but lucky number seven (a former art forger gone semi-legit) said he might have some information she would find…interesting about a certain pushy senator. Darcy packed her bags and switched out the plates on her car faster than you could say Razzleberry PopTarts. Her source had named a drop point, and she planned on being there by sunrise.

"Thanks for all your help, Logan," she said quietly, the darkness of the night swallowing them up.

"No problem, kid." She dropped him back off at his bike, parked a safe distance away from the impound lot. Before she sped off into the night, he leaned back on the car. "Be careful, and call the Institute if you need anything." Darcy gave him a salute. "You'll get 'em, kid."

* * *

The next postcard came to the Tower three days later, addressed to Natasha. It was from Lawrence, Kansas, and showed the Yellow Brick Road. On the back was written:

_One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her – is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?_

_243:112 56:201 12:35 311:2. 78:111 99:176 2:101 77:99 369:1 55:12. 227:32 401:45._

Raising an eyebrow at the oddly spot-on nature of Darcy's quote, she pulled out a battered copy of _Wicked _from Darcy's bookshelf. As she read off the numbers to JARVIS, he quantified the pages and words and came up with a succinct message for her eyes only, apparently.

_Have something for you. Will let you know drop point. Don't tell._

Well well well. It seems that little Darcy had some espionage in her after all. Natasha smiled a feral smile to herself and went to pack a go bag.

* * *

The next day, Clint received a second postcard. It was a silly little postcard, from a tiny town in Iowa, but it surprised Clint that she would know that about him. The quote was much shorter this time.

_Journeys end in lovers meeting._

_22:13 67:34 12:1_

Clint wasted no time in having JARVIS decode the message.

_Be back soon_

He smiled to himself.

* * *

The two week mark of Darcy's disappearance came, and Natasha found a second postcard in her mail. The postcard was for New York City, and on the back was an address. Natasha smiled to herself as she walked out of SHIELD (effectively scaring no less than five junior agents).

Natasha made it to the address – a coffee shop – and her phone rang. "This is Natalie," she said pleasantly, for all intents and purposes appearing to be another businesswoman on a coffee run.

"Hey Nat." came Darcy's tired voice through the phone. "Anyone follow you?"

"Oh, no, I forgot to get the papers from Clint," she said, hoping Darcy understood.

"Good," Darcy said, picking out the important words in the conversation. "If you ask to pick up the order for Gershwin, you'll find a USB drive along with your favorite kind of muffin and coffee. On it should be everything to connect Senator Brackenthorn with the man who threatened me."

"Oh you did get them? Just bring them by my office this afternoon."

Natasha could feel the eye roll Darcy was giving her. "I won't be back until I know that he is safely behind bars," she said quietly.

"In fifteen minutes?" Natasha/Natalie glanced at her watch. "That won't be a problem."

Darcy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Thanks Nat. I owe you…well, a lot more than just one." She smiled to herself as Natasha hung up the phone. From her vantage point across the street, she could see her pick up the pastry and then head back out the door.

Darcy slunk back to her (third) stolen car, and then hightailed out to the Institute to hide at Logan's until the shit hit the fan.

* * *

Clint was watching the news a few mornings later in the communal kitchen when the headline suddenly changed to Senator's Brackenthorn's step down from his run for re-election. "Huh. Isn't that the guy who was trying to use us for an ad campaign?" he asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah, I think so. He tried to get to me at the Stark Gala but Darcy stopped him," Steve said absentmindedly, playing with Blair's toes.

An idea was niggling at the back of Clint's brain, but he didn't have enough details to flesh it out. Natasha had disappeared for most of yesterday, but he didn't know enough to connect her to the senator. Pushing it aside for now, he went back to eating cereal.

"So…Cap. What can you tell me about Darcy's family? Or about Darcy herself?" he asked offhandedly, as if he was asking about the weather or whatever sports game had been on last night.

Steve's head shot up. "Um...not that much. Just that her parents were divorced, and it was a very messy one. Her dad used to play baseball. She has a stepbrother and two half-siblings, but never talks to any of them. That's about all I know about her family."

"What about her?"

Steve shrugged. "Her comfort movie is _The Princess Bride _and she's ticklish around her knees. She hates pickles and can't sing worth a dang. Her favorite superhero is Pepper and when she's tired, she develops an accent." Steve rambled out.

"Huh." Clint said again. It was kind of pathetic that his teammate knew more about his girlfriend (?) than he did. "Okay. Thanks." Time for Clint to do a little recon.

* * *

After dropping Blair off at the SHIELD nursery, Clint shimmied into the air ducts. After fifteen minutes of twisting and crawling, he made it to HR's personnel files room. He wanted to do this the old-fashioned way; anymore, they kept an electronic track of who accessed what files. If he does it by hand, no one has to know.

Silently, he scanned the filing cabinets for Darcy's file. When he got to the L's, he looked and looked, but he couldn't find Lewis, Darcy. What was going on? Hearing the beep of an access card, he quickly bolted back into the air vent.

After that failed attempt, he tried to pester Coulson for her file. Coulson gave Clint his best ninja stare, and Clint felt chastised enough to go do something productive with his day. He spent the afternoon in the range, testing out the new bow Stark had made him.

Around 7, he picked up Blair from the nursery and went back to the Tower, dejected at his inability to snoop in Darcy's life. He had tried everything from hacking into the SHIELD mainframe to interrogating his teammates but to no avail. On paper, Darcy Lewis didn't exist prior to enrolling in Culver University at age 18. On all of her SHIELD forms, _Coulson _was listed as her emergency contact. No family was listed anywhere.

Curiouser and curiouser.

* * *

When he got to his – no, Darcy's, because technically he still had his own suite of rooms – suite, a postcard was taped to the door. It was the New York skyline at dark. Juggling baby and diaper bag and quiver, Clint eagerly ripped it off the door and flipped it over.

_Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light._

There were no numbers on the bottom, so Clint wasn't sure how this was a clue. JARVIS helpfully unlocked the door for him, and Clint went into the living room, depositing bags on the floor by the door.

The suite was dark, but he weaved his way around couch and stroller to the nursery. He swiftly changed Blair's diaper as he theorized about what the postcard could mean. Laying Blair down in the crib, he went into the bedroom to change into sweats. Staring at the floor, looking for a clean pair, he flipped on the light.

Glancing up, his heart leapt into his throat when he saw the familiar head of curly hair sticking out from the top of the blankets. Quietly, he took off his shoes and slid under the blankets next to her.

Mumbling in her sleep, Darcy immediately rolled over and curled into the crook of his shoulders. Clint stroked her back, searching for any bruises or swellings that might indicate that she hadn't disappeared willingly. Nothing seemed amiss, so he wrapped Darcy in his arms, breathing in the scent of that perfume had traveled across the winds for him.

She had come back, and for that fact, Clint was willing to do whatever it took to keep her there.


	11. Lifetime Movie Life Story

AN: So, while the numbers from last chapter are totally made up (I am way too lazy to look that shit up), the quotes are all legitimate. The first is from _The Alchemist _by Paulo Coelho (which you need to read, if you haven't; it's awesome). The second is from _Wicked _by Gregory Maguire. The third is from _Twelfth Night_ by Shakespeare, and the fourth is from Harry Potter, and you fail at fandom if you don't know that. I honestly recommending reading all of them – the first is like my favorite book of all time, and _Wicked _is amazing and so much deeper than the musical would have you think.

* * *

The first thought Darcy had on waking up was sweet baby Jesus, her hand hurt from clenching Clint's dog tags in her sleep. As she continued to come back to reality, she realized that A) she was actually in her own bed, and B) so was Clint. His arms were like steel bars, holding her to the bed. She shifted slightly, trying to wiggle her way out of his embrace.

He instantly woke up at her movement. Instead of releasing her, he rolled her over until her nose was in his chest. "God, Darce, I'm so glad you're home in one piece," he sighed into her hair, holding her in a tight embrace.

Darcy patted ineffectively at his chest, gasping out, "Clint. Can't. Breathe." He released her, and she sat up and leaned back against the wall. Logically, Darcy knew she needed to explain the whole "family emergency" thing, but it was just so hard to lie to Clint when he was laying next to her, looking all bed-rumpled and sexified. Hell, it was hard to lie to him, period.

He sat up as well, cross-legged on the bed, facing her. "So…does your disappearance have anything to do with Senator Brackenthorn stepping down from the Senatorial race?"

Darcy tried to keep her face neutral, but she couldn't help but momentarily gape like a fish. "I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, trying to sound vaguely puzzled. "I had a family emergency."

Clint stared at her impassively, his face betraying no emotion. "All of your family is in this Tower, Darce," he stated.

Darcy fiddled with his dog tags where they laid against her sternum. After an eternity of moments, she sighed and slumped down. "Yes, it does," she whispered into her chest.

"What happened?" Clint asked, his expression still neutral.

"You saw the email, I'm assuming?" Darcy asked tentatively. At Clint's nod, she continued. "I went to the meet, and I was told an unnamed party wanted access to the Avengers, in exchange for Blair's safety. I agreed, for the time being, then went to find out who the unnamed party was."

"How, without SHIELD's resources?"

Darcy gave him a wry smile. "SHIELD is not the only resource I have."

_The impeccably dressed man met her in a quiet coffee shop in Brooklyn. Darcy, in her travel-stained clothes and tangled hair, offered a sharp contrast to his sharp, Rat-pack inspired suit and sleek fedora._

"_It's good to see you again, Neal. I heard rumors that you play for the big leagues now," she said with a cheeky grin._

_He crossed an ankle over his knee, the moment economical yet elegant, and Darcy caught the glimpse of an ankle monitor before he readjusted the cuff of his pants. "Which is how I got you this information. Don't let Peter know," he said, returning her cheeky grin as he slid an envelope across the table._

"And by being off the grid, the unnamed parties couldn't contact you to make their demands." Clint offered as he switched into Agent mode and analyzed her situation.

"Exactly. So I wandered around the East Coast, reaching out to some of my old contacts."

_The platinum blonde thief met Darcy in an abandoned warehouse outside of Philadelphia. "I thought New York was your litter box?" Darcy asked once she reached the meeting place._

"_It was starting to stink, so I decided to play elsewhere for a little bit," the woman chuckled. "Plus, I had a craving for cheesesteak."_

"_An excellent notion," Darcy grinned. "Do you have it?" she asked, suddenly becoming serious._

_The other woman nodded, and pulled an envelope out of her catsuit. "I think you'll find this interesting."_

_Darcy wrinkled her nose. "I don't even want to know where you've been keeping that. But thank you, very much, Fee. You don't know how much I owe you for this."_

_Felicia peeled the flimsy black mask off her face, and unzipped her catsuit to reveal black leggings and a loose tank top. "Buy me a drink, tell me about your new boy toy, and we'll call it even, Dee."_

_Darcy shoved the envelope into her bag, where it joined the other incriminating evidence she had accumulated. "That I can do. Plus, I have to show you pictures of my baby girl. She's almost as blonde as you."_

"East Coast? But your post cards came from New Mexico and Iowa."

"I collect silly postcards. Mostly I keep them to remind me of the places I've been, but it seemed like a less-traceable way to reach you guys."

"How long did it take you to get the information you needed?"

"About a week. It took another week to set up the meeting with Brackenthorn and the drop off of my insurance policies."

_Logan picked up Darcy at a truck stop somewhere around New Haven, and they went to the Institute to plan out her meet with Brackenthorn._

"_I don't like it, kid. What if he's got thugs of his own?"_

"_Logan, they threatened my baby girl. I'm not letting him get away with this."_

"_At least make sure someone has copies of everything."_

"_I've already started contacting Natasha. You know she can be trusted."_

"_Darlin', why aren't you letting SHIELD handle this again?"_

"_Because someone in SHIELD leaked photos to Brackenthorn. I can't chance this getting back to him."_

"_I still don't like it, kid. But I think I know a way we can add some more insurance to this meeting…"_

"Insurance policies?"

"I sent copies of the information I had to Natasha. I knew she would take care of things on this end."

Clint nodded, and Darcy was grateful he didn't push the fact that it was Natasha and not him. "What happened at the meet?"

_Darcy sat on the tailgate of the Town Car, idly tapping a large manila envelope against her palm. It was late at night, and the parking garage in D.C. was all but empty. According to her contacts, the senator's dinner ended an hour ago, which meant that he would be walking out to his car at any minute. _

_As the footsteps echoed throughout the empty concrete structure, Darcy unsheathed the wicked looking knife that was hidden in the small of her back. Placing it quietly next to her on the trunk of the car, she continued to remove weapons from her person, in total amassing three knives, a matching set of Beretta pistols with four extra clips, a garrote, an array of throwing stars, and a small machete. Placing the items around her, she presented an oddly juxtaposed scene: an innocent looking college girl, clad in an oversized UNM sweatshirt and jeans, surrounded by a small arsenal, and holding photos that could create the next Lewinski political scandal._

_Her smile was sharper than the blades next to her as the senator, surrounded by three goons, walked up to his car and saw her sitting there. "Senator Brackenthorn. How lovely to see you again. How have you been?" she said conversationally. Before he could answer, she continued talking, picking up one of the knives and playing with it as she talked. "To be honest, Senator, I don't give a flying fuck how you've been. You threatened my daughter, and I can prove it. So here's what's going to happen: your offer is not only rescinded, but you're also going to step down from the senatorial race and retire to a quiet life far, far away from the city. Or else Elisa and June and Tasya are going to come forward, and I don't think the missus is going to like that. Or your constituents. Do we have an understanding?"_

_The senator gave her a shaky nod, and Darcy collected her assorted weaponry. Shoving it into her bag, she hopped down off the car. "Awesome. Have a good evening, senator."_

_As the Town Car drove away, a second Darcy appeared from the shadows. The two women met where the car had been, and the first Darcy shifted into a blue-skinned, red-haired woman. "Thanks, Mystique. I appreciate your help," the second – real – Darcy said._

_Mystique nodded, and held out the folder to Darcy. "We do what we must to protect our children, even if it puts us outside the law."_

"We met, we chatted. I made some convincing points, and he agreed to my terms. Totes diplomatic." Darcy said with a sly grin.

"Is he still in one piece?" Clint asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Darcy shrugged. "Does it matter?" At Clint's stare, she huffed, "Fine. Yes. He was when I last saw him."

Before Clint could ask any more questions, Blair started crying. Darcy hopped out of the bed, eager to see her daughter. Clint went to get a bottle, and Darcy sat down in the overstuffed rocker with Blair, memorizing every curl on her daughter's head.

"She's changed, even in the two weeks I was gone," Darcy said once Clint came into the nursery. He didn't say anything in response, just watched her feed Blair. Once the baby was fed, Darcy shifted her to her shoulder and walked around the room, burping her. Once that was done, Darcy kept walking, trying to lull Blair back to sleep.

"Why did you run? And why didn't you tell me?" Clint finally asked, emotion creeping in at the end of the questions.

"I just…reacted, Clint. My first instinct was to run; that's what it's always been," she said tiredly. "I run and then eventually I come back, get the info I need, and deal with my problems, all my own. That's my M.O."

"But you have me, now. You have all of us. We would have helped you," he pleaded.

"I know, Clint. I know." Darcy murmured, trying to keep her voice low for the sake of her half-asleep baby.

"Do you, Darce? Because I don't think you realize that we are now a team. You are my partner. We're family, dammit!" he said, his voice rising.

Blair started to fuss at Clint's raised voice. "Shh, Clint." Darcy whispered, rocking Blair some more. After an awkward pause, she said, "You have to understand, Clint, I haven't had any family worth speaking of – or to – since I was twelve. I don't…I don't know _how_ to have someone help me. Or how to even ask for help." Darcy explained, her Southern accent starting to creep in. "I just…if I have a problem, I either take care of it, or run. That's all I know how to do. In this case, I did both." Clint opened his mouth to say more, but Darcy cut him off. "Look, I don't want to argue about this while Blair is with us. I'd rather her first memory not be of her parents fighting, like mine was."

Clint stalked out of the room, and Darcy sunk down in the rocker and silently wept as she tried to get her daughter to fall back asleep.

* * *

Clint paced the living room, waiting for Darcy to emerge from the nursery. He didn't know what he felt at the moment, just that he felt too much. There was anger: at Darcy, for disappearing; for Brackenthorn, for creating this mess; and at himself, for not being able to do more. There was guilt: about the anger, about dredging up Darcy's apparently crap childhood. There was fear: that Darcy would leave again and take Blair; that she would leave and not come back. There was gratitude: praise God and Thor and whatever other deity might exist, Darcy had come back. And behind it all was this indescribable, unquantifiable feeling that left him elated and sick to his stomach all at the same time.

After a few minutes of wearing a groove in the carpet, Darcy slipped out of the nursery, gently closing the door behind her. Clint watched her as she cautiously moved to the couch and curled up as far into one corner of it as she could get. Clint stopped pacing and sat down at the other end of the couch, trying not to intimidate her into revealing her secrets.

Clint watched as Darcy played with his dog tags around her neck, and something in him untwisted and cracked open. She seemed to realize what she was playing with, and she gulped. Taking them off her neck, Darcy held the dog tags out to Clint, a white flag across the boundaries of the couch cushions. "Keep them," he said gruffly, his heart in his throat. Nodding, she slipped them back around her neck.

"Steve said your parents were divorced." Clint said, trying to get her to open up.

"Yeah," she nodded. "To be honest, they never should've married in the first place. But Patricia – that's my mom, but I refuse to call her that – got knocked up, and in a conservative Southern town, you get married when that happens. So they did, and then I came along, and ruined Patricia's figure. Six months later, my dad gets an offer to play semi-pro baseball, and she pushed him to take it. My formative years were spent traveling from ballpark to ballpark. When I was five, and needed to start school, they dropped me off with my grandmother and continued traveling. She's the one who raised me. When I was eight, Dad had the opportunity to try out for the Rangers. He made the first draft, but blew out his knee in the second."

"Wait…the Texas Rangers?" Clint asked, trying to remember his sports teams.

"Yeah. I grew up in the middle of nowhere, Texas," she said with a slight smile, the drawl fully evident in her voice.

"You've got the accent." Clint said with a smile. The accent is endearing, and makes her seem softer and younger.

"Anyway…" she drawled out, "Patricia couldn't tolerate being married to a small-town electrician, so after six months of screaming matches, they got divorced. Dad got custody and Patricia traded up for a stockbroker." She paused, grabbing a faded quilt off the back of the couch and wrapping up in it.

"What happened next?" Clint asked, curious. He wanted to scoot closer, to hold her hand while she dredged up obviously painful memories, but her body language screamed stay away.

Darcy took a deep, shuddering breath. "My grandmother moved in with me and my dad, and continued to raise me while Dad rewired houses. She died when I was ten, and from then on it was me and my dad. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't bad. I mean, yeah, he hated Patricia, but so did I. We actually got along pretty well; he taught me how to play baseball and we went fishing in the summer."

"So you were a tomboy. That…actually explains a lot." Clint said, smiling at the mental image of a young Darcy, with pigtails and scraped up knees, playing baseball.

Darcy cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good. Definitely good."

She picked at threads in the quilt, and Clint could tell she was hesitant to go to the next chapter of her life story. After a few moments, she looked back up at him and continued. "My dad was killed in a car wreck when I was fourteen, and after that I was sent to live with Patricia, who was on husband number three and living in Virgina. It was…bad. Really really bad."

"Like goth phase bad?" Clint laughed weakly, trying to make a joke.

"Like stabbing your stepbrother with a letter opener because he was trying to rape you bad. Like getting a juvie record for assault bad."

"You mean…" Clint said, too shocked to even contemplate the awfulness of Darcy's mom.

She shrugged. "It was him against me, and Patricia believed him. So I got sent to juvie, where I learned lots of valuable life skills and made some fun new friends. And…yeah. That's pretty much all the major events in my life," Darcy summed up, and Clint noticed the tension in her hands and the way she caved in her shoulders, as if preparing herself for some kind of verbal assault.

Instead of saying anything, he slid across the couch cushions. Placing Darcy between his legs, he wrapped his arms around her quilt-wrapped body, cradling her against her chest. "We are not our parents," he murmured into her hair as she finally broke down and cried. As the tears soaked his shirt, he continued to stroke her back. "You're already so much better than your mother; look at what you did to protect Blair." He continued to murmur encouraging nothings into her hair, and if his eyes were watery, well…she couldn't see them.

* * *

After telling her Lifetime-special life story, and crying her eyes out on Clint, Darcy felt marginally better. Pulling back from his chest, she wiped her eyes with her grandmother's quilt. "So…wanna trade slightly less depressing life facts?"

Clint laughed, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Cupping her face between his calloused palms, he leaned down and brushed a feather-light kiss across her lips. Darcy sighed, and murmured "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he murmured back, leaning his forehead against hers. Darcy sniffled, and he leaned back, grabbing the tissues off the coffee table. "I'm 80% deaf in my left ear," he offered after she blew her nose.

"I can drive a tractor."

"I don't like spicy food."

"I ate an entire habanero once, weenie."

He made a face. "I can juggle."

She rolled her eyes. "Not surprising. I'm allergic to penicillin." They traded facts back and forth, until Darcy started yawning. "Look, darlin'," she drawled, her Texas accent in full affect. "I haven't slept in my bed in two weeks, and I'm emotionally drained. Back to bed?"

* * *

Darcy fell back asleep almost instantly, but Clint had trouble. He lay there, watching her breathe, his dog tags clutched in her hands, and thought about everything Darcy had told him. He knew her personnel folder was in a locked drawer in Coulson's office, but he was glad he hadn't read it. Hearing the story from her was much different than seeing the rap sheet with no explanations. He knew from personal experience that sometimes, you do things with good intentions but with bad results, and there was no way to erase the past damage – you just had to live with the stigma and hope that the important people understood what really happened.

Clint's phone buzzed, and he reached over Darcy to grab it off the nightstand. It was from Coulson. _Avengers debriefing at the Tower at 0800 hours._ He glanced at the clock, and it read 3:23 am. Darcy's phone buzzed, and Clint figured she had to be there as well. _Might as well try to sleep, for tomorrow's going to come early_ he thought, snuggling in next to Darcy.

She murmured something in her sleep, and pulled Clint's arm over her midsection. He smiled to himself, and fell asleep not long after that.


End file.
